Ordinary Acts of Bravery
by JustAPunter
Summary: Lorraine thought she'd always be in Amity, growing and harvesting food crops with her family. After receiving an unexpected aptitude test result she chooses Dauntless, where her initiation is overseen by Four. She becomes intrigued by a Dauntless-born initiate, the reclusive and enigmatic Dante, during her first week of training (mostly OC; reviews welcome).
1. Chapter 1

I've only been to The Hub once before. It was three years ago, on Choosing Day, when my older brother was sixteen. He chose Amity, but he never came back to live in our house. Instead, after initiation when the new members of Amity are allowed to move out of the initiation barracks, he married Annette Fleming and they moved into their own house. Annette is a year older than Paul, and had lived at the end of our block for as long as I can remember. I never knew he was in love with her until he told us- our parents and me- that they were getting married. She, it turned out, had chosen to stay in Amity the year before Paul's Choosing because of him. My parents think it will be the same with me tomorrow. I'm not so sure.

It started with the flowers. Last spring, I opened the door as I was leaving for school and there was a bouquet of handpicked flowers on the front step. My father and mother were right behind me; Dad ready to drive several students and myself to school and Mom heading to Greenhouse 3 to work on grafting fruit trees. They saw what I saw. And that was Ben Hirsch's back disappearing around the corner of the house next door. He was the only person in sight, and he was one of five kids that my father drove into the city for school that day. The only one who was blushing constantly and staring at his hands clasped in his lap, not speaking to anyone. Twice I caught him glancing at me, and both time his blush deepened.

I'm definitely not in love with Ben Hirsch.

I mean, he's all right. He has blond hair and green eyes and a nice smile, but he's wholly unremarkable in personality. He never does anything different that makes him stand out in my mind. Come to think of it, neither do any of the boys I know. The thing with the flowers? That's how most Amity boys tell Amity girls that they like them, or vice versa. But my parents work closely with his parents, and they seem to think we are a great match. Problem is, no one ever asked me for my opinion. No one ever does in Amity, until you've been through initiation. Only then is your voice counted.

Today is going to be my last day at the city school. Tonight will be that last meal I eat with my parents as a child. Tomorrow, we will all go into the city together- even Paul and Annette are coming- and I will take part in the Choosing Ceremony.

Amity seems like a good place for me; I have been climbing our fruit and nut trees to help with the harvests since I was five. I learned about starting summer vegetables like tomatoes and peppers in the greenhouses in early spring to ensure a bountiful harvest all summer. My mother says I am the best with potatoes, though. Last year, I planted an entire bed of them myself, took care of it all summer, and we had a huge harvest; much bigger than the other beds planted by the Amity children.

But I never set out to help with harvests, grow tomatoes, or cultivate potatoes. I did these things because they are all an outlet for my boundless energy and my wonder of living things. Plants are well and good, but people are much more interesting. Or even animals, I think, even though I've never worked with the livestock on the farms. When I was eight I sat on a plow, with my father pushing from behind, as two massive horses pulled it up and down one of the corn fields because the farm's tractor was being repaired in the city. I was awed by the massive animals and their sheer strength, and I guess I've been fascinated by them ever since. I have been fascinated by anything that seems out of the ordinary to me. And it worries me, because I don't know anyone else in Amity who feels that way.

"Lorraine, it's almost time to go!" My father calls down the hall to me. I call back that I'm nearly ready, and finish braiding my auburn hair. I tie the end of the single braid with a yellow ribbon, and then slip my red cardigan on. I'm wearing my favorite yellow dress, but it's sleeveless and it's raining today. I take a moment to peruse my reflection in my dresser mirror before leaving. I'm nothing special to look at, really, unless you like redheads. Even then, I think I'm pretty plain: green eyes of no particular notability, a sprinkling of freckles on a straight nose, lips of average size. My forehead may be a bit coarse along the brow thanks to my dad, but other than that, a completely unremarkable face. Sometimes I think that the only reason that Ben likes me is because I'm plain, kind of like his personality.

There are seven of us riding in the truck into the city today. Ben is one of them, and as usual, he avoids eye contact but is continually sneaking glances at me. I do my best to ignore him. There have been four bouquets since that first one, and the last one had a hand-written note. I never even read it. I've never even really talked to Ben since we were children. I don't really want to. Maybe that makes me cruel.

As usual, all of our classes at school today are half their usual time. We turn in final assignments, get our estimated grades from our teachers, and then head to the cafeteria for lunch. Amity's table is second from the end of the room, with Abnegation at the end farthest from the door. I retrieve my lunch- an apple, a baked potato, a slice of ham, and a carton of milk- and sit down next to Holly Colton and Barry Thompson.

"Lorraine, why don't you ever eat sandwiches like the rest of us?" Holly eyes my potato, then glances at her peanut butter and jelly sandwich on brown bread. Most of the Amity kids are eating the same thing. I roll my eyes. I've told her a hundred times if I've told her once.

"I'm allergic to the glutens, Holly, remember?" I say as gently as I can. Holly is a nice girl, but a bit of a featherhead.

"Well, I think we should be allowed to have ham and potatoes for lunch, too." She replies.

"You could, if you were in Candor. They eat this stuff every day," I tell her. Her eyes get big and round.

"Does that mean you're transferring?" She asks.

I laugh. "Holly, we haven't even taken our aptitude tests yet! How would I know if I'm even capable of being in Candor?"

"Oh, yeah," she giggles. "I guess that makes a difference."

The subject of the aptitude test makes everyone in earshot nervous, so I drop it. We spend the rest of our lunchtime on eating and pleasant, albeit nervous, small talk. After about an hour, the test administrators walk in and open the ten doors on the long side of the cafeteria: the testing rooms. I wait for what feels like an eternity before the Abnegation woman with the blonde hair tucked into a neat knot on the back of her head calls my name.

"Lorraine Harper."

I stand, suddenly unsteady, and walk toward her. The door closes behind us, cutting off the nervous banter and shuffling of those waiting in the cafeteria.

"Hello, Lorraine. My name is Natalie and I'll be administering your test today," she motions to the chair in the center of the room, indicating that I should sit. I do, as she takes a seat at the computer beside it. She hands me a vial with a clear liquid in it.

"Drink this, then lean back and close your eyes."

I do as she says.

When I open them, I find myself back in the cafeteria. The room is deserted, and two baskets sit on the Amity table. I walk up to them, and see that one holds a hunk of cheese and one holds a large knife.

"Choose." The voice startles me, and I look around the room trying to find its source. But I am alone. I look back at the cheese and the knife.

Cheese I know about. I'm Amity; we make the stuff. I think about the trucks of cheese being loaded off to the city every month from the dairy farm up the road from my home. But the knife is a tool I've never encountered, at least not one this big. It isn't like the knives we use in our kitchen for cutting meat or vegetables; it has a long, thick, curved blade and a handle that suggests a firm grip. I reach for it, and wrap my hands around the handle. As I lift it from the basket, both baskets vanish, along with the cheese. I hear a door behind me creak open. I turn, and a huge dog enters the room at a dead run. It is snarling, hackles raised, each long, swift stride closing the distance between us.

I still have the knife in my hand.

For a moment I feel my grip tighten on the handle, and then I have a very clear, rational thought:

What am I going to do with a knife? I've never used a weapon in my life and I have no idea how. I also know that, unless I time it just right, I will miss my chance to strike at the dog and…

I don't think about "and". I throw the knife aside and drop into a crouch, hands out as if to catch a ball being tossed to me, eyes on the dog. When it's two strides away from me, the dog leaps. I go belly down and launch myself forward. I grasp in desperation and manage to catch it by the back legs. I draw myself up quickly, but I'm still too slow. The dog bites my foot. I yell and somehow kick free, grateful for the thick leather shoes I'm wearing. I manage to get behind the dog, gripping its back legs. It can't attack me now, because each time it reaches back with its head, I sidestep and throw it off balance. We are at an impasse.

Then the door to the testing room I walked into moments ago opens, and a man I have never seen before walks out. He is dressed in black and white: Candor. He whistles sharply and says something in a language I don't understand. I feel the dog relax, and hear it begin to pant. The man says something else in the strange language, and he shifts his gaze from the dog to me. I say nothing. He repeats himself, this time louder.

"I'm sorry, I can't understand you," I say.

"Release the dog. He won't try to hurt you again," he says. I let go, and the dog stumbles a few steps, and then walks placidly to the man's side.

"How did you know to hold him from the back?" The Candor man demands.

"I… uh… I'm not sure. It just made sense. Get far away from his teeth, and into a position where he can't reach me," I reply, feeling foolish.

The man says something else in the strange language.

"I can't understand you," I repeat. The man simply nods, then begins walking towards me. When he reaches my side, he turns to face the dog again. It hasn't moved.

"Why didn't you take the cheese?" he asks.

"I don't know." I say, feeling small and foolish.

"Yes you do. Why don't you tell me?"

"No, I don't know why I didn't take it." Something inside me tells me that I can't let him know that the knife was so fascinating, and the cheese so ordinary, and that I'd rather have the more interesting thing. That knife was meant to be a weapon, I'm sure, and Amity forbids weapons. So I must lie to him.

"Tell me!" the man shouts.

"I don't have a reason, okay?" I shout back. "I was told to choose between two things and I just picked up one without thinking about it at all!"

The man glares at me, then says something in that strange language again. The other nine doors to the testing rooms open, and nine more dogs enter the room. Now there are ten, and all of them begin to snarl and growl at once, and begin moving towards me.

I can't fight them all. And I know, I just know, that if I ask him, even if I beg, the man won't make the dogs stop again like he did before. I know that he is controlling them, and he continues to call commands to them.

Suddenly I know what I have to do. I cast about the room, and finally I spot it under a table about a dozen feet to my left: the knife. I must get away from the man in order to get to it, and I have only seconds before the dogs reach me. I dive again, sliding on my belly on the cool tile floor. I grab the knife and scramble to my feet. The dogs are closing in on me in a semicircle, the nearest one only a few feet away. I crouch and back up slowly with the knife held out before me. Then I see the Candor man's sleeve in my peripheral vision. He hasn't moved. I straighten and pivot, raising the knife over my head. I bring it down, sharp and swift, burying it in the left side of the man's chest. And now I know I'm doomed, for I have committed the worst imaginable crime: murder.

I open my eyes, and I am lying in the reclining chair in the testing room. Natalie is sitting at her computer, and the only way I can describe her expression is "dark."

"You killed him?" she asks.

"He..." I croak; my throat is dry. I swallow hard, and realize that I'm trembling. I try again. "He was controlling the dogs. I couldn't fight off ten dogs, so I had to stop them at their source." It's the worst possible excuse, even though I realize it's the truth.

"Interesting," Natalie replies softly. "Well, I don't know if I've ever seen a more decisive aptitude test result."

"What was it?" I ask.

"Everything you did; every decision, every action, is most definitely Dauntless."

"Dauntless?" The Freak Show, with their tattoos, piercings, outrageous hairstyles and daredevil antics? Me? How, when Amity is all I've ever known, all I've ever considered?

Then it dawns on me. The challenge of growing the best crops; the thrill of climbing to the very top of the trees; riding on top of the plow. These are Dauntless challenges, Dauntless thrills, Dauntless values, disguised in Amity trappings.


	2. Chapter 2

I leave the testing room to wait with the others who have taken their tests. When everyone is finished, we are dismissed to return to our homes. I know that my father has already delivered his truckload of produce to the Abnegation warehouse for distribution and rationing, so I'll have to take a bus to the fence that encircles the city. Most of us on the bus are Amity, although I do spot three or four Erudite blue shirts near the back. The gate nearest my family's farm is close to Erudite headquarters, so it's not unheard of that a few of them will ride the bus with us now and then. Although our factions work closely together to develop better ways of growing plants, the Amity kids don't really socialize with the Erudite kids unless we have to. So, they have the back of the bus and we have the front. This afternoon, no one does much talking. I guess we are all thinking about tomorrow, and the decision that we each have to make. The decision that will determine the rest of our lives.

A tractor with a hay wagon meets us at the gate, and we pile in for the ride home. I see Ben as I am getting off the bus, and am careful to sit on a bale of hay that's as far away from him as I can get. As we bump and bounce our way toward the farms, I feel the wind picking up from the northwest. My gaze travels to the horizon in that direction, where I see heavy, gray clouds rolling in. Looks like rain tonight.

Even though it's my turn to make dinner for my family, my mother insists that I should relax and reflect on my aptitude test results. Neither she nor my father asks me about it, except to ask how it went. I lie with a smile, and tell them it went just fine and that I'm not worried about anything.

But I _am_ worried. I never considered being in Dauntless. I sometimes wondered about Erudite, thinking maybe it would be interesting to work with scientists to develop new ways to grow crops. I even wondered about Abnegation, and how I could help the Factionless. The only two factions I never considered were Candor and Dauntless, and today I learned that I seem to have been born for Dauntless. I guess I never really knew myself at all. And I know what that means.

I manage to eat enough of my dinner to convince my family that I am fine, and even offer to wash the dishes afterward. But my father steps in, and both of them encourage me to go to bed early because we have to be up and ready to go to The Hub for the Choosing Ceremony. They remind me that Paul and Annette are joining us, and it's clear to me that they are certain that we will all leave the city tomorrow as we came in: as a family.

I toss and turn for a long time before I finally fall asleep. My dreams are abstract and confusing, involving jumping from moving trains into the marsh and not being able to free myself from the mud. I see Paul and Ben and Holly walking past me, but I am dressed all in black and they don't recognize me. I call to them for help, and Ben just glances at me and shakes his head. He is dressed in a yellow shirt and red overalls.

"Faction before blood," he says, and walks away. I look again where he was standing, and there is a bouquet of wilted flowers on the ground. I see that they are red and yellow zinnias.

When I wake up, the light coming through my window is dim and even. I hear rain hitting my window. A gloomy day isn't going to help my mood. The dreams made me realize what I'll have to leave behind, and the reality of this hits me like a fist in the gut. I go through my morning routine like a puppet, guided by muscle memory that tells me how to brush and braid my hair, and how to lift forkfuls of egg to my mouth. Before I realize it, it's time to leave. Paul and Annette pick us up in their cargo van, and we all ride into the city together. Paul tries to ease some of my obvious tension by talking lightheartedly about his own participation in the Choosing Ceremony, and about how he knew that he must choose Amity because Annette was his destiny.

"You'll know what yours is too, Lorraine, when you're standing up there in front of the bowls. And I know you'll make the right choice. You're my sister, after all," he tells me as we are driving through the gate and into the city, all awash in gray under the slate-colored sky. He, too, seems so sure that I'll choose Amity and that we will all be coming home together in a few hours.

I can't tell him. I can't tell any of them.

At last we arrive at the Hub. Paul parks the van in a lot across the street, and we hustle through the rain and into the lobby. We take the elevator up to the floor where the auditorium is located. Inside, we take our seats among the other Amity members. The Abnegation members sit to our right; the Erudite to our left. The Dauntless are as far away from us as they can be in this half-circle room: clear on the other side of Candor. At least there are no windows in the auditorium, so we can't see or hear the rain outside.

After Marcus, the top Abnegation official in the city, makes a short speech about the tradition and importance of the Factions, the names of every sixteen year old in the city are called one by one. And one by one, we all choose the Factions where most of us will spend the rest of our lives. Sure, some will fail initiation and end up factionless, but most of us will succeed. I hope I will be part of that greater percentage.

I find myself zoning out, wondering what initiation is like in other factions and what could possibly go wrong in order for someone to fail. I shudder when I think about Candor and Erudite initiation. There is no way I would possibly make it through. But Dauntless… how fascinating I find it, imagining what it would be like. Probably learning from hard-faced men and women with muscles like chiseled stone how to jump blindfolded from a moving train and land on your feet…

I am jarred back to reality when an all too familiar name is called:

"Benjamin Hirsch."

I glance around the Amity section and finally spot Ben rising from his seat a few rows in front of us. He walks slowly to the dais and takes a knife from Marcus. He makes a small slice in the fleshy part of his palm, and waits a few heartbeats for the blood to flow. Then he steps forward and very decisively holds his hand out over…

The Abnegation bowl. A few drops of his blood dapple the stones, blending with that of the others who chose that faction earlier. And me, I can't believe it. Ben Hirsch, with his bouquets and his subtle, persistent attempts at wooing me, in Abnegation? But there he is, for all of us to see, leaving Amity and walking across the dais to join the Abnegation recruits. My eyes follow him; I don't know why. Maybe I feel a bit betrayed because of my brother and his wife's choices. I feel a small pang of loss, because I know I'll never get those bouquets again, even though I never welcomed them to begin with. When he reaches the Abnegation bench, he looks up and our eyes meet. He hesitates, then offers an awkward shrug and a forced smile. I try to smile back, but I can't. I look away.

"Lorraine Harper."

My mother has been holding my right hand, and my father my left, since the first name of the Ceremony was called. Not hard; they have been holding them gently, and again I am certain that they are convinced of my choice. I squeeze both hands and then release them quickly. I know that this will be my last moment spent with them until Visiting Day… if they decide to come see me. I start down our row toward the aisle that leads to the dais. Paul rises as I reach him, seemingly to make room for me to get past his long legs. I glance into his eyes and he nods to me. Then, so softly that no one else can hear, he whispers.

"Be brave."

And I know that my brother knows which choice I will make. He has known all along. He knows me better than I know myself. And yet he kept that knowledge from my parents, from Annette, and even from me until this moment. I feel a burning in my chest; overwhelming gratitude for my brother and those two words. I feel a smile tug at the corners of my mouth, but it's bittersweet. That could very well be the last moment I share with Paul, too.

I reach the aisle and take a deep breath. I square my shoulders and raise my chin. Today I am proud to be Plain Lorraine, because Paul Harper is my brother and he supports me even though I am making a choice that will take me out of my family's life forever. Because this moment is mine, and I will always remember it, always remember how I felt. I don't want to remember feeling frightened or guilty or sad. I want to feel proud… and brave.

I reach the dais and stand between the five bowls that represent the five factions. I take the knife from Marcus and, with a steady, certain grip I make a small slice in my palm. I wait only long enough for the blood to flow sufficiently, then I extend my arm over the smoldering coals of the Dauntless bowl. There are three hisses as three drops of my blood contact the coals, and I retract my hand. I glance up at my family. Paul is applauding vigorously; Annette politely, but with a look of surprise on her face. My parents both seem frozen; neither of them has moved. They wear identical expressions of shock and disbelief. I tear my eyes away. I was right about them expecting me to choose Amity.

Instead I focus on the front benches of the Dauntless section, where I am greeted by thunderous applause, the stomping of booted feet, piercing whistles, and a cacophony of shouts. I hesitate for just a moment; after living amongst so much red and yellow, it's intimidating walking toward a wall of black-clad, pierced, tattooed people who look like they are about to riot. But it's because I chose them that they are making all that noise and pumping the air with their fists. And for the first time in a long time, I feel like I belong to something.

The uncertainty and intimidation pass. My shoulders are back and my head is up as I take my place between two Dauntless-born recruits who returned to their original faction earlier in the Ceremony. One is a girl, slightly taller than me, with blue-grey eyes and black hair with a bright red streak on one side. The other is a boy, tall and lean with long, straight brown hair that he has tied back in a ponytail. I can't tell what color his eyes are because he is staring at the floor, apparently uninterested in the events of the Choosing Ceremony.

"Hi," the girl extends her hand to me. I clasp it and shake it awkwardly; in Amity, we usually greeted each other with a light hug. "I'm Erica. And this is Dante, but he probably wouldn't tell you that himself."

"Nice to meet you, Erica. Nice to meet you, Dante," I say, addressing them individually and equally; Amity tradition. Dante makes a noise in his throat, and glances sideways at me. His eyes are a remarkable shade of brown. At first I think that they are the color of chocolate, but then I realize that they are somehow closer to the color of fire.

"Oh, he acknowledged you!" Erica says, sounding somewhat sarcastic. "That means he must like you!"

I offer Dante a smile, but I feel awkward and stiff. Dante snorts, and moves away from us. I feel like I have done something to offend him.

"Don't mind him," Erica says, rolling her eyes. "He's just moody. And he doesn't like to talk to girls in public."

"Oh, okay" I say, feeling foolish and awkward. I watch Dante walk away, but I lose him in the crowd. Then the next name is called, and I return my attention to the Choosing Ceremony.


	3. Chapter 3

The names all begin to blur together. Some I recognize as Amity members who went to school with me. Most stay in Amity; a few leave for other factions. Only one other Amity member, a boy named Joseph Becker whom I have seen at school but never spoken to, chooses Dauntless. After three hours, the Choosing Ceremony is, at last, complete.

We leave the auditorium by faction: Dauntless first; Abnegation last. This is when I find out that Dauntless don't use the elevators to go back down to the ground floor. No, we head to the stairwell, picking up speed as we go. I am jogging to keep up by the time we approach the doors to the stairs. That is when I hear the thunder, and think that the storm outside must have gotten much worse. But as I reach the door I realize that it's not thunder at all; it's the pounding of booted feet as the Dauntless run full-tilt down the metal stairs. This realization sends a bolt of energy straight through me; I feel my pulse quicken, my muscles tensing with the anticipation of running down all those flights of stairs. I reach the top step, and leap right over it. My foot hits the second step and I am running, propelled forward by the press of bodies all around me. We run all the way to the ground floor, and we do not stop once we reach it. I follow the other members at our breakneck pace out the main entrance of the Hub, and turn right on Adams Street. I feel my heart jump when I realize where we a headed: the trains.

The pavement is slick from the rain, which is now coming down in a steady drizzle, but I don't slow my pace. On the contrary: I feel the need to push myself harder, to run even faster. I have never run so far or for so long in my life, and it feels amazing. I feel like a bird, an eagle soaring across the sky, flying free. I find myself passing some of the others; at first it is just the slower transfers from the other factions, then Dauntless initiates… then, one by one, I begin passing full-fledged Dauntless members until I am even with the three frontrunners. They are all male, and one is older than the rest. The other two can't be much older than me. The older man is tall and lean, with white-blond hair pulled back in a ponytail. The younger one who runs closest to me is square and muscular with long black hair and more metal in his face than anyone I have ever seen. The other is taller and also muscular, but not bulky like the first. He has short, dark hair and a slightly hooked nose, but no piercings to speak of. At least, none that I can see.

I keep my pace about half a stride behind them. It is hard work keeping up with them- for one thing they have longer legs than I do, so I have to take about one and a half strides to equal one of theirs. For another, these guys are super fit, and I am sure that they run like this all the time. My breaths are ragged, deep and rapid. I am aware that they can hear them over our pounding footsteps. The two younger ones glance back at me, and identical looks of surprise cross their features when they see me in my yellow skirt, red blouse, and red flat-soled shoes. The older man never looks back.

A few blocks later, we reach the iron supports that anchor the elevated train tracks to the pavement below. Here is where I hesitate, as I am not sure what to do. The three leaders don't pause at all; they just start climbing. I watch to see where they put their hands and feet, and emulate them as I begin my own climb. Apple trees were easier, with their angles and rough bark, compared to a vertical steel beam, but I manage. I do not reach the top as close to the leaders as I was when I was running, but I am still way ahead of any of the other initiates. I am surprised to see that Joseph, the other Amity transfer, is the first of them to reach the platform. I guess he climbed a lot of trees, too.

We wait only a few minutes before the train comes into view, its horn blaring. It slows down only a little as it approaches the platform. Again I wait and watch how the other members board the train before I do so myself. They start jogging along the platform, then break into a run when the first car passes. The doors on all the other cars are open, and they jump into them. I don't make it look as graceful or easy as they do, but I clear the platform and land on my feet inside the third car. The momentum of the train immediately throws me off balance and I throw my arms out, flailing to keep my balance. I fail miserably, and end up landing hard on my back.

"Crap! Are you okay?" I hear a familiar voice call out. I look up to see Erica shoving her way between people to reach me. They all saw me fall- great. I feel my ears heat up, which I know means I'm blushing. I sit up and scoot to the side of the train away from the doors. Erica kneels beside me.

"Yeah, I'm fine. I just don't have much practice jumping on and off moving vehicles," I tell her.

"So I guess those stories we hear about Amity kids playing chicken with tractors aren't true?" She says, again her tone is touched with sarcasm. For a moment I just look at her without answering.

"Well, if they were, I might have stayed," I say, trying to emulate her tone. Immediately she bursts out laughing.

"Oh, and I might have transferred!" Erica replies, still laughing. "That was some run, by the way. I was right behind you down the stairs, and then- pow! Once we got outside, you were like a bullet! No one could keep up with you. For a second, I thought you were going to pass Eric and Four and Harrison. Would have loved to have seen the look o Eric's face if he'd seen that he had a girl from Amity on his heels!"

""Which one is Eric?" I ask.

"The one with more piercings than manners," she tells me, and I smile.

"He did see me. He looked like this." I do my best to imitate the raised eyebrows and wide eyes I saw on Eric's face when I drew level with him during our run.

"Oh man, I bet he did!" Erica chuckles, then her smile fades and her eyebrows knit together. "But seriously, it would have been bad if you'd passed him; very smart that you didn't. He was just elected a leader of Dauntless a few months ago, and he is _very_ proud. Challenging him for anything is the fastest way to get on his bad side, and… let's just say it would be very, very bad to start out on the wrong foot as an initiate. He's going to be overseeing a lot of our training. Harrison- the guy with the blond ponytail that was running at the front- he's the main trainer for transfers, but he's stepping down after this year. He's training Four- that's the guy who was running with Eric- to take his place. Eric and Four are only seventeen, making them the youngest members of Dauntless to ever have those positions. They're both very strong, very serious, and… pretty intimidating."

"Wow, Erica, you are handy to have around! Thank you; I'll keep that in mind," I say. I am grateful to have made an acquaintance of someone who knows so much about the Dauntless members that will be playing a major role in my life for the next couple of months. Plus, I like Erica. Sure, she can be sarcastic sometimes, but she is also smart and funny and radiates positive energy.

Erica gets up and walks to the open door on the other side of the train. She leans her head out, looking forward at where we are going. After a few minutes she turns back to me.

"Time to go!" she says, and everyone on the train heads toward the open doors. The train's brakes squeal and we slow, again only a little. I get a glimpse of people jumping off the first two cars onto a rooftop. I try to make my way through the crowd to Erica, but there are too many people in the way. Our car reaches the rooftop, and people begin jumping off. I start to get antsy because there are four initiates in my way, all from Candor, who are hesitating. I can't get past them, and the rooftop is only so long. If I don't make this jump, I fail initiation. If I jump too late, I fall to the street below and will very likely die. I start to bounce on the balls of my feet as the Candor transfers debate the wisdom of jumping. We are seriously running out of time, and two of the girls are getting hysterical. Their debate has become a cacophony that sounds more like a coop of agitated chickens than a discussion. Finally, I can't take it anymore. I shove them aside, and leap…

I see the far edge of the rooftop beneath me. My heart jumps to my throat; I have jumped too late, too late and now I am going to fall…

…Except I don't fall. My right foot lands squarely on the tiled ledge that frames the top of the roof. Then I bring down my left foot and… it scrapes the edge of the tile, slippery from the rain, and goes out from under me. I fall to my right knee, but my left leg slides off the edge of the roof. I scrabble madly for purchase on the inner edge of the tile with my right hand, while I grope for anything at all to hold onto with my left, which is hanging over the edge along with the entire left side of my body. I kick out with my right leg, trying to heave myself back onto the rooftop, but I'm sliding off. I hear alarmed shouts, but they sound far away and muted…

Then arms grip me around the waist and start to pull me back onto the roof. I feel the inside of my left leg scraped raw as it slides up and back to safety. I am pulled upright and hauled away from the edge of the roof. My rescuer is behind me, so at first I can't see who it is.

"Are you all right?" The voice is quiet, but deep. I nod, breathless and shaking. My leg is bleeding, the fingernails on my right hand are broken and bloodied from trying to grip the rough edge of the tile, my right knee is throbbing and bruised, my hair is coming unbraided, and I am soaked from the rain, but I am alive. Yes, I am okay. The arms release me. I turn, and find myself face-to-face with a pair of brown eyes that are exactly the color of fire.

"Th-thank you, Dante," I stutter. He nods, then abruptly turns away and walks back into the crowd. Everyone is staring at me, and suddenly I am aware of how ragtag I must look. My ears burn, and I cast my eyes to the gravel that covers the rooftop inside the tile frame.

"Okay, let that be a lesson to you all," a man calls from the opposite side of the roof: Eric. "That's a good way to end your initiation, or end your life when you're in Dauntless: hesitation when there is a need for action. The mistake the initiates-or should I say, former initiates- made on the train was hesitating out fear. They were afraid to jump off the train, so they hesitated. They are factionless now. The mistake that she," Eric points at me "made, was hesitating out of politeness. She waited for the others to jump because it would have been inconsiderate to cut in front of them." He focuses his ice-hard gaze directly on me.

"Lucky for you, you were desperate enough to discard that silly Amity habit in time to save your life. A split second later, and you would be kissing pavement half a dozen stories down. As it is, you should be kissing Dante for saving your ass. Hesitation is cowardice. We don't tolerate cowards in Dauntless, and that brings us to the next step of your initiation. You have to get inside Dauntless headquarters, which is underground, and you have to get there from this roof."

He gestures off the edge upon which he stands. I make my way over along with the rest of the initiates. Below us, there is a huge, dark hole in the concrete. It takes me a second, but I realize what's expected of us: we have to jump off the roof and fall into the hole.

I hear the gravel crunching as someone walks through the crowd toward the edge where we are standing. I turn to see Dante striding up, rainwater streaming down his face and through his hair as he removes his black jacket. Underneath, he wears a form-fitting black t-shirt. On his right arm is a tattoo that looks like snake scales. He hands the jacket to Eric, and without even hesitating, jumps right off the edge of the building. He disappears into the hole, and a few moments later we hear some shouting and cheering from below.

I am still shaken up by my near fall, so I am not ready to jump just yet. I step back, and focus on breathing deeply and calming myself down. I find Erica, and she looks concerned. She gives my hand a squeeze and tells me that the sooner I jump, the sooner it will be over with. I know she's right, but I still don't feel like I am ready. She stays next to me until there are only five initiates remaining on the rooftop.

"You have to go soon. You can't wait til last, or Eric and Four will see you as weak. You have to suck it up, and just do it," she hisses to me.

I take a deep breath and release her hand. I take one step, then another and another. I am at the edge of the roof. I let out my breath slowly, and look down. I shake my head. I don't want to see the pavement below me. I turn around and put my back to the open air and spread my arms like wings. I close my eyes and feel the rain spattering on my face. I tilt my head back, my body follows, and I am falling….

I hit the net moments later, and it bounces back up in the air. I fall to the net again, and only open my eyes when the bouncing slows. I roll over and reach for the edge of the net. Hands reach up to meet mine, and woman with a Mohawk and a tattoo that covers the left side of her skull helps me out of the net. It's colder down here in the dark, and I have spent too long in the drizzle. I am shivering.

"What's your name?" The woman asks me.

"L-l-l…" my teeth are chattering and I can't seem to get it out. I inhale deeply, and look up at the overcast sky through the hole above. I just jumped onto and off of a moving train, ran fast enough to keep up with the leaders of our city's fittest faction, and jumped off a six-story building and survived. I am no longer Plain Lorraine.

"Rain. My name is rain," I tell her.

"Thirteenth jumper," she calls out, "Rain!"

Cheers and shouts welcome me, though not as enthusiastic as they were for the first few jumpers. In the darkness around me are the members of my new faction, waiting to welcome us and see what this year's crop of recruits has to offer.

"Nice to meet ya, Rain. Welcome to Dauntless."


	4. Chapter 4

The mohawked woman is named Eileen. She ushers me away from the room at the bottom of the hole to a hallway where the other initiates are waiting. Most of them are engaged in conversation with one or more people, so no one acknowledges me when I join the group. I see Dante at the front of the pack, standing a little apart from the others. I am grateful for his help earlier and I want to tell him so. I try to catch his eye, but he is staring at the wall across from where he stands: he doesn't acknowledge me, either.

Erica joins us a moment later, and one by one the last three initiates enter the hallway to wait with us. After them, the Dauntless leaders filter in. I know there are still more members of Dauntless jumping off that roof in the rain, but we aren't given the opportunity to meet any of them. Eric, Harrison, and Four divide us into two groups: Dauntless born and transfers. Harrison tells us that we will be housed and trained separately, but we will be ranked together. That is when we find out that not everyone who made it to Dauntless Headquarters in one piece will be joining the faction: only those who rank in the top ten at the end of initiation. There are some loud protests from several of the transfer initiates- there are seven of us left. But Harrison is an expert at crowd control, and he quells them quickly enough. I never make a sound, but the gravity of the situation is not lost on me. I know that I must do well, that I absolutely must finish in the top ten.

Eric takes the Dauntless-born initiates down the hallway to show them to their dormitories. Harrison, with Four shadowing, gives us a tour of the Pit, our dormitories and training rooms, an excursion to the Chasm, and a sharp warning to keep our wits about us when in its vicinity. Before we are allowed to go to dinner, we are lined up in one of the training rooms and presented with our new Dauntless training garb. We are each given four outfits made of supple, stretchable fabric that is tough and rugged yet allows breathability. We get one pair of boots each: heavy, black leather things that lace halfway up our shins. I have no problem with them because I used to wear similar boots on the farm, but I am certain that the two Erudite transfers are in for some bad blisters.

The purchase of new clothes and other amenities is also explained: each member is awarded a certain number of points based on their position within the faction. Dauntless leaders earn the most, while initiates earn the least. Food is rationed out to everyone equally at meals, but additional food can be bought with points; along with clothing, tattoos, piercings, furnishings, and anything else we want or need. Initiates' purchases are restricted until the end of our training- we aren't permitted to buy anything that takes up extra space in our dormitories. We have footlockers that fit under our beds that hold our clothing and footwear; anything that won't fit in them is not allowed until after graduation, when we move into apartments of our own.

After we change into our new Dauntless clothes, we are dismissed to go to dinner on the Pit floor. I haven't really made any connections with any of the other transfers; Joseph, the other Amity transfer, is getting chummy with the Erudite transfers, who, it turns out, are twins. I feel more than a little awkward as I move through the tables in the Pit, unsure where I should sit, until I hear Erica all my name. She is sitting with the other Dauntless born initiates, but there is an open seat next to her and she motions me to take it. I sit, and find that all eyes are on me and the conversation has halted abruptly.

"So, this is her?" a muscular boy with blond hair sitting across from us addresses Erica. "This is the Amity chick that Dante pulled back onto the roof? What's so special about _her_?"

Before she can reply, someone farther down the table on the opposite side shoves a tray of food away from himself and stands abruptly: Dante. He glances at the boy who spoke, then shifts his eyes to me. I feel like his glare is going to burn a hole right through my skull.

"Does there have to be something special about someone to save their life?" Dante asks, his voice barely loud enough for me to hear. Without waiting for a reply, he turns on his heel and walks swiftly away. There is another awkward silence.

"Really, Vince," Erica scolds, "you need to learn how to turn on a filter."

"Whatever," Vince rolls his eyes at her, then returns to the plate of pork chops in front of him.

"Help yourself to whatever you want," Erica turns to me, gesturing at the platters in the middle of the tables. They are heaped with pork chops, baked potatoes, roasted carrots, buttered rolls, steamed greens, and brown rice. I take a little of everything, and a glass of water to wash it down.

"Hey, can I ask you something?" I lower my voice as I finish one of the rolls.

"Sure you can," Erica answers, lowering her voice in kind.

"What is it with Dante? People act so weird about him."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, at the Choosing Ceremony, when you introduced me to him and he said something, you kind of made a big deal about it. Then, just now, that Vince guy said I must be special because Dante pulled me back onto the roof earlier." I am growing increasingly confused about why people treat their friend like this. For a few seconds, Erica just looks at me, chewing.

"Are you finished eating? Because I don't want to tell you this with everyone around," she replies at last.

I am done, yes.

Erica takes me by the hand and leads me away from the Pit floor. We go down a series of hallways that weren't included in the tour earlier, and soon I am completely lost. Erica stops at a solid metal door with a narrow window set high above it. She pulls the door open and sticks her head inside. After a moment she pulls it open and motions for me to follow her inside.

"This is the Dauntless-born girls' shower room," she explains. "There won't be anyone in here until tomorrow, after our first day of training."

We settle onto a lacquered wooden bench in the middle of the rectangular room and she tells me Dante's story:

_Dante has never had much exposure to females in his life. His mom died when he was still a baby, and his father was left to raise Dante and his three older brothers on his own. He worked fence security and would sometimes be gone for days on end, so it often fell to the other boys (Dale, Derek, and Damien) to care for and raise Dante. When he started school, he was always very shy and withdrawn, but never more than when he was around girls. This was in sharp contrast to his brothers, who had lots of female friends… and girlfriends, as they got older. Girls would try to talk to Dante and befriend him, even flirt with him, but none ever succeeded until Jessie Vale._

_Jessie was another Dauntless-born girl who had also been a bit of a loner for most of her life. The two had been assigned to work on a project together in their last year at the Lower School, and they had connected. For several months they were always seen together, and they became different people. They talked all the time, told jokes and laughed. They seemed to be happy. Then, one day, Jessie was gone. Just vanished with no warning or explanation; not even Dante knew where she'd gone. When it became clear that she wasn't coming back, Dante shut down again. But this time it was even worse. He wasn't just shy and withdrawn anymore; he became downright antisocial. He wouldn't talk to his brothers any more than was absolutely necessary, and he shut their father out completely. He tried to run away a number of times during his first year at the Upper School; each time his oldest brother Dale, who was a member of the Street Safety team, would bring him back. _

_Some people thought that he was in love with Jessie, but people who'd known her the best insisted that they'd only been friends. Whatever the case, Dante rarely even acknowledged girls in his presence anymore. His interaction with me was more than Erica, who had grown up next door to Dante's family, had seen in years._

I'm not sure what to make of Dante, even after Erica's explanation. Antisocial behavior is something that we never, ever encounter in Amity. One thing I do know for sure: Dante is hurting, and no one has been able to help him. Maybe no one has ever really tried, other than Jessie. I feel bad for him, but also confused: why did he help me? He could have just as easily helped the girls from Candor who had been too afraid to jump from the train to the rooftop, and saved them from the condemnation of living factionless. But it was me that he chose to help, and I know that finding out _why _would require the single greatest act of courage I had ever performed in my life.

But I have, after all, chosen Dauntless.

I thank Erica for the details, and promise not to tell anyone anything about this. She then checks her watch and declares that we should be heading to bed because we both have to be in our respective training rooms by 8:00 am tomorrow, ready for our first day of initiation. She guides me back to my dormitory and we wish each other good luck for tomorrow.

The others are already in bed by the time I get back, but it's not yet lights out. I change into a long t-shirt and a pair of leggings to sleep, and find myself suddenly exhausted as I slide into my bunk. I am asleep before I know it.

That night, I dream of the fields of new corn as they looked from my bedroom window in mid-spring. The sun is setting, and a figure is walking westward across the field. A breeze ruffles the ten-inch tall stalks, and lifts the long, straight brown hair of the retreating figure: it's Dante. I run out across the field, trying to catch up to him, calling as I go, but he can't hear me. At last I catch up to him and touch his shoulder. He turns slowly around, but he's looking over my head, searching the fields to the horizon. He won't look at me. I shout, I scream, I pound my fist against his chest, but he will not look at me.

I wake with a start to a clamorous clanging. I sit bolt upright, and see Four in the doorway with Harrison behind him. Four is holding the lid of a galvanized trashcan and a short length of thin metal pipe. He slams the pipe against the trashcan lid a few more times to make sure everyone is good and awake.

"Training room at 8:00 am. You have five minutes," is all he says, then he and Harrison retreat. I catch the eye of the Candor transfer, a boy named Ross, in the bunk across from mine.

"Welcome to day one," he mumbles.


	5. Chapter 5

The first few days of training are the hardest, although I expect that they are more difficult for the former members of the other factions than it is for Joseph and myself. At least we were encouraged to spend time outdoors and getting exercise in Amity. The twins from Erudite, Leah and Spencer, seem to be struggling the most with the fitness aspect. Harrison has us run laps around the perimeter of the largest training room for thirty minutes at the start of each day and by the end of that, those two are pretty well done in for a while. But Harrison doesn't let up: we have to learn how to properly handle firearms; including loading, firing, cleaning, and caring for three different types of guns. We are taught how to throw knives, and also how to use a whetstone to sharpen the blades. We are taught hand-to-hand combat, sometimes with weapons and other times without them. Harrison's theory is that any piece of debris encountered in the environments in which Dauntless patrols can be used as a weapon, either in our own hands or in the hands of adversaries. He teaches us not only how to use these things- pipes, pieces of cable and rope, shards of glass, sticks, and rocks- but also how to defend ourselves against others using these objects against us.

On our fifth day of training, I am pitted against Nate, one of the Candor transfers, in armed combat practice. Nate is big; almost six feet tall and still growing. He is also strong, and getting stronger as we train. But then, so am I. I know that if I'm quick enough, I can get in the first few hits, maybe shake him up enough to win. We step into the ring, and I size him up beneath the glare of the overhead lights. Who am I kidding? He's going to pulverize me.

Four has strewn debris about the ring, mimicking the items found on the average city street outside. Harrison instructs Nate and I to each pick up one piece- and one piece only- to use as a weapon. We are clad from ankle to neck in combat suits, which are snug-fitting bodysuits made of a tough poly-nylon/Kevlar compound that is being tested as a shield material for Dauntless clothing. It is supposed to be tough enough to deflect bullets, but it's never been tested in hand-to-hand combat. The Dauntless leaders are using the initiates as guinea pigs to determine its effectiveness.

On Harrison's signal, Nate and I move into the debris-strewn area of the ring. I hesitate for a split second to see what Nate will choose as a weapon. He moves toward a broken shard of rigid red plastic; it looks like it was once the cover of a traffic light. Well, if he's going to try to cut me, I am going to try to bruise him. I pick up a two-foot length of narrow copper pipe. We move in a slow circle around each other, looking for an opening, or waiting for the other to falter. Our boots crunch and shuffle as we move through the objects on the floor around us. Finally, Nate lunges. I duck, but I'm not fast enough. The makeshift blade in his hand grazes my shoulder, but the fabric of my combat suit holds. I swing back at him, hitting him squarely in the ribs. It's a solid hit, but I don't hit hard enough. Nate doesn't even flinch. He grabs me by my shoulder with his free hand and shoves me away, putting him out of my reach. I stumble, trying to keep my balance, and Nate attacks again. I throw my arm up in an attempt to block him, and his blade slices down across my forearm. There is a dull ripping sound, followed by a flash of pain. I grunt in surprise; the knife got through the fabric of my suit. I swing at him again, but this time he's ready for me. He grabs my wrist and twists, forcing me to lose my grip on the pipe. It clatters to the concrete floor. With my free hand I make a fist and swing at his face. I get lucky and hit him in his right temple. He roars, and I see rage and pain in his eyes.

He felt that one, I think triumphantly, but it's short lived. Nate tosses away the broken plastic shard and grabs my other wrist. He spreads his arms, and thus my own, rendering me helpless. It dawns on me that I could knee him in the groin, but before I can act on this, I see his forehead rushing toward mine.

I wake up with a throbbing head, lying on the cold concrete floor of the training room. Four is kneeling over me, saying something over and over. He peers closely at me when I open my eyes.

"You okay, Amity?" He asks.

"Rain," I try to correct him, but my voice comes out a weak wheeze.

"What was that?" He leans closer. His eyes are the color of the western horizon at dusk on a clear summer night.

"Rain," I repeat, louder this time. "My name is Rain."

A smile plays at the corners of his mouth. "Okay, Rain. You're done for the day, but we're keeping you with us for observation. Gotta make sure you don't have a concussion. That was a hell of a head-butt you took out there. Good thinking, hitting Nate in the temple; but next time go for the eye. If he can't see you, he'll have more trouble hitting you. And hit harder with your weapon if you're going to choose a bludgeoning instrument. The idea is to break your opponent's bones, not pat him like a pet rabbit."

I stare at him in silence for a moment, then I simply nod. It's good advice, but does he have to be so brutal in his wording? Four is one unsettling guy.

I haven't felt like passing out or throwing up by the end of the lesson, so after a brief examination by Harrison, I am cleared to hit the showers and head to dinner. I may not have a concussion, but my head is still throbbing. A shower will be nice, but I don't think I'll be able to eat much.

I follow the other initiates out of the training room and down the hall. Nate glances back at one point, and drops back to wait for me.

"Are you sure you're okay?" he asks. I turn my face fully toward him so he can see the lump above my left eyebrow. I say nothing; just glare at him.

"Look, I really am sorry. I didn't mean to hurt you, but… it's training, and I have to do well if I want to be in the top ten." His forehead creases slightly as he speaks, the corners of his mouth turning down. I am convinced that he means what he says, so I force a smile.

"Well, I suppose I should start fighting like I mean it, then, because I want to be in the top ten, too," I reply. He grins back at me and gives me a thumbs-up. Ahead of us, Leah calls back to him impatiently.

"Put some ice on that bump, Rain. See you after dinner!" Nate advises over his shoulder as he runs ahead to catch up with Leah and Spencer. I drag my heels and fall farther behind. Rather than heading right to the showers, I stop by the infirmary and get an ice pack for my head. They ask a few routine questions, again making sure that I don't have a concussion, and send me on my way with my ice pack. I head back to the dorms and sit on my bed with the ice pressed to my eyebrow until I feel moisture collecting around my fingers. The ice has begun to melt, so I take it into the shower room to dump it down the drain. My head still hurts, but not as much. I peel off the combat suit and take a shower. The hot water and the act of getting clean make me feel loads better. After I towel off, I realize that I haven't brought a clean set of clothes with me. As I slip back into the combat suit, my thumb catches in the tear that Nate made across my forearm. I examine the frayed fabric and the minor cut beneath it. The suit actually did a good job of protecting me. I figure the cut will heal in a few days; it hardly hurts at all. Not compared to my head, at least.

I head back down the hall toward the dormitories, intent on changing into clean clothes before going to the Pit floor for something light for dinner, like soup. As I pass the intersection of the hall that leads to the training rooms, a movement at the end catches my eye. A lone figure is walking slowly down the hall away from me. I know instantly by the long brown ponytail and the scales tattooed on his arm that it's Dante. I abandon the idea of the clean clothes and the soup and follow him.

He walks slowly past the training rooms, almost as though he's just wandering with no real destination in mind. He passes the main entrance to the Pit and heads down a side corridor that leads to the Chasm. As I come around the last bend, I find him leaning on the railing, staring down into the churning water below. This is the first chance I have ever had to talk to him alone, and I decide to take it. I walk slowly up beside him, and lean on the railing several feet away. I don't look at him, even though I know he's aware of my presence by now.

"Hi," I say. There is a pause.

"Hi." His reply is flat, but his deep voice echoes off the stone walls, filling the air around us for a moment. I glance over at him, but he doesn't look up. I notice that he has a purplish bruise on his cheek, and the corner of his mouth is torn.

"Did you get in a fight?" I ask, suddenly feeling very awkward, and completely at a loss as to how to begin talking to him.

He shakes his head, then his eyes slide over to me.

"Training," he corrects. His eyes come to rest on a spot above my left eye. "You?" He nods, indicating the red lump.

"Yes," I say; then another awkward silence.

"Did you follow me here?" He asks bluntly.

"Yes," I see no point in lying.

"Why? To thank me for saving you? Or to ask why I did it?" He sounds annoyed. It's not hard to guess that he's been taking a lot of crap for his actions. I take a deep, steadying breath.

"A little of both, and neither," I say. I am surprised by how matter-of-fact I sound. Must be the acoustics of the Chasm. "In fact, I don't even really need to know why you did it. The point is, you did it, and here I am."

"Yes, indeed. Here you are," his tone sounds mocking. He straightens up, and turns toward me. Oh, wow, is he ever tall. Taller than Four; taller than Nate. He takes a step toward me. "An Amity transfer in Dauntless."

I feel my pulse quicken, and my ears are getting hot. I am glad that the area where we're standing in dimly lit. I feel my body instinctively try to retreat, but I manage to stop myself from taking that backwards step. I stand my ground and raise my head to meet his eyes. Brown eyes that are somehow exactly the color of fire. Fire; the symbol of the Dauntless.

I am Dauntless. I am not afraid of fire.

Dante takes another step toward me; then another, and another. He stops when he is less than two feet in front of me, looking down at me.

"So thank me and go away. I don't like being followed around," he says, dropping his voice. "Especially by huggy-kissy Amity girls."

I set my jaw and narrow my eyes. I wish people would stop calling me that.

"I left for a reason, you know," I tell him.

"Why? Because you didn't want to spend your life plucking banjos and picking apples?"

"Are you always this nice to people who try to get friendly with you?" Now he's making me angry.

"Oh, is that what this is?" He smirks, voice dripping with sarcasm. "An Amity get-to-know-your-neighbor call?"

I punch him, right in the eye. The look on his face is absolutely classic, but I am too angry to care.

"The hell with you, Dante. You're a jerk. You know, it's not exactly easy to be Amity. They work damn hard and provide the city with something that's just as essential as what Dauntless does. And I left them, period; end of story. Why doesn't matter. I'm Dauntless now, so deal with it!" I am screaming at him, more angry than I can ever remember being about anything in my life. I take a second swing, but he is ready this time and blocks it. His hand grips my forearm, right over the tear from the fight with Nate. His fingers slide across it, and suddenly his expression changes. He shifts his grip, and drops his eyes to the frayed fabric. I take advantage of his momentary distraction and try to pull away, but he grips my arm firmly, drawing it closer.

"Stop… stop!" He commands, but his voice has changed. It's not as low, but it's still serious. I ignore him, and keep trying to pull away.

"Stop, Rain, please!" He places his free hand on my shoulder, trying to steady me.

He said my name. He said "please".

I stop struggling.

He stares at the rip in the fabric of my suit.

"This is one of the new suits, isn't it?" he asks. His voice is much softer, and he sounds somehow awed, like a child who has just discovered the star formation of the seeds in an apple core for the first time.

"Yes," I reply tersely. I am not struggling, but I am not relaxing either.

"Come over here in the light," his voice is almost gentle now, and he leads me by the arm over to the lighted area beside the railing.

"What did they use to make this?" he asks, his voice almost gentle now. He releases my shoulder and glides his fingers along the rip, examining it closely.

"A sharp edge of a piece of hard plastic. I think it was part of a traffic light," I tell him. I have no idea why this little rip could be so fascinating. "Nate tried to stab me with it, but I blocked him with my arm and it tore the fabric. Didn't do much damage to my skin, though."

"Let me see," he replies. Hesitantly, I roll up my sleeve so he can see the cut on my arm. He runs his thumb over it gently, and I feel like sparks are shooting into my skin. I shudder slightly. Dante must feel it too, because he abruptly lets go of my arm. "Sorry," he mumbles as he straightens back up.

"It's okay," I say,. "It didn't hurt when you touched it."

"No, I'm sorry for acting the way I did earlier. I don't know why I get like that," he drops his gaze and shakes his head. "I mean, I guess maybe I do. I just… never spent much time around girls. I don't know how they expect me to act around them, so I always end up just pushing them away."

"Well," I say slowly, "you could try just acting like yourself."

"What do you mean?" He looks at me sideways.

"I mean, like you did just now. You became someone completely different when you saw the rip in my suit. Whoever he was, I'm willing to bet he's a lot more like the _real_ Dante than that rude guy who calls me Amity all the time."

He looks at me, his mouth in a firm line. Did I say too much?

"But I have no idea what girls want to be treated like. They just seem so… different from guys."

"You're right, we are different," I tell him. "But we are still people, and this girl, for one, likes to be treated like a person. So start from there."

I see a light come on in his eyes at that moment. He raises his eyebrows, and his lips part just a little. He stares at me like that for a heartbeat, and then a smile spreads across his face: a huge, ear-to-ear, genuine smile that lights up the entire world.

"Treat you like a person. Yeah, that I can work with," he answers, then heaves a deep sigh. His entire body seems to relax.

"Well, person-girl, have you eaten yet? Because I'm starving," he asks still smiling.

"I haven't," I admit. The bump on my head made me queasy, but suddenly I find myself feeling much, much better. "But I could go for a hamburger right about now."

"Then let's hope those other food vacuums in the Pit haven't eaten them all!"

"Lead the way!" I crow. I can't help myself; I smile as I follow Dante away from the Chasm and back toward the Pit.


	6. Chapter 6

The Pit floor is all but deserted by the time we arrive. There's less than an hour left before curfew for us, so we have to rush our meal. Fortunately, there are still hamburgers available when we arrive. We each grab one; I slather a marbling of ketchup and mustard on mine and set the bun aside. I notice that Dante likes pickles and onions on his.

"You don't like the bun?" He asks.

"The glutens in the bread don't agree with me," I explain.

"Good reason to leave Amity," he says, then quickly, before I can reply: "I'm kidding, Rain."

I catch him glancing at the rip in my sleeve again.

"What's so interesting about this?" I ask, putting down my burger to run my finger along the damaged fabric.

Dante finishes chewing a bite, swallows, and clears his throat. "My oldest brother, Dale, works in a defensive weapons lab. He helped create the material they make the combat suits out of. I got to hear a lot about the process that they went through to develop it into something practical, something that could be used as body armor but still meet the standards for Dauntless uniforms."

"Standards?" I ask. I never really thought about it before, but I guess it makes sense that there would be some pretty important qualifications for Dauntless uniform materials, seeing as they- we- are exposed to some very dangerous situations, and put our lives on the line every day. We need to wear protective clothing.

"Yeah," Dante continues; "it has to be flexible enough to allow total freedom of movement, but strong enough to withstand weapon assault. This one," he points at my suit, "is going to end up on the chopping block if it can't even fend off a slash from a plastic knife. I expect we'll all be getting new suits before initiation is over, or not long after."

"What would they have to do to improve the defensive capabilities of the material?" I ask.

Dante takes another bite, staring into space as he chews. I can practically see the gears turning in his head. "They're gonna have to put the Kevlar layer between two layers of the poly-nylon material. And they are going to have to add something to give the outer layer more rigidity. _This _material," he gestures to my suit, "is flexible enough, so it'll be fine as the inner layer. But they'll have to find something to use on the surface layer…" his voice trails off and he stares at me for a moment.

"What is it?" I ask, starting to feel self-conscious.

"Sorry," he lowers his eyes. "Am I talking too much?"

"Not at all," I assure him. "I asked you a question and you answered."

"This isn't boring to you?"

"If I thought it was boring, I wouldn't have asked you about it in the first place," I pause. "You really seem to know what you're talking about when it comes to this stuff. Have you ever thought about working with your brother? I mean, you know, after initiation."

"I thought about it," he nods, "but I don't want to design defensive weaponry all my life. I'm pretty sure I'd get bored with it, or frustrated."

"Why on Earth would you think that?" I ask. "You have an engineering mind, from the sound of things."

"You make it sound like I should be in Erudite," he sets his jaw. I think I may have set him off somehow.

"I think you belong where you choose to belong," I say carefully. He just shakes his head and goes back to his burger. We eat the rest of our meal in silence.

When we are finished, we have only ten minutes to get back to our dorms before curfew. The halls to our respective dorms are at opposite ends of the Pit. We linger for a few moments before we have to leave, and I suddenly become very aware of Dante's presence. It's as though I can feel his body heat radiating from his pores. Standing near him reminds me of the feeling in the air right before a big storm out on the farms, when the electricity in the air makes your hair stand on end.

"Well," he says at last, "Thanks for… uh, everything, I guess. It was nice to have someone to talk to. Besides my brothers."

"Thanks for giving me a chance," I reply. I feel a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

He shoves his hands into the pockets of his cargo pants, looking at the floor. I get the distinct feeling that he's still unhappy with something I said earlier. But he's trying to be nice, so I won't say anything.

"We should both be getting back," he glances over at me. Even though the lights in the Pit have dimmed significantly with the late hour, I can still see that spark in his eyes.

"Yes, probably," I agree. "Well, good night, Dante. See you tomorrow."

"Yeah. See you tomorrow," he says. Then he abruptly turns on his heel and strides away, and I watch him retreat for a moment. His ponytail swings slightly between his broad shoulders, ending a few inches above his narrow waist. His long legs are evident despite the baggy cargo pants he wears. His arms are bare below the sleeves of his t-shirt, and the dim overhead light accentuates the definition of his biceps.

When he reaches the edge of the pit, he glances back over his shoulder and fully catches me staring at him. I feel completely stupid, so I wave as I turn away. Just before he disappears from my peripheral vision, I see him wave back.

The next morning at breakfast, Dante seems to have returned to his usual withdrawn self. I have to remind myself that getting him to come out of his shell like he did with me for a few minutes last night was not easy for him, and I can't expect him to open up to everyone in the world right away. I do feel a little bit special that I was the one who experienced it. Just once, I catch his eye over our plates of omelets and fruit. His expression changes, warming almost unnoticeably, and he gives me a small nod. He then returns to his breakfast and I do the same. Not even Erica notices, but I'm dying to tell her what happened last night. If only I could get her alone.

Training after breakfast involves rifle and shotgun care. We learn how to dismantle them for cleaning and maintenance, then to reassemble and calibrate them for greatest accuracy. I am looking forward too eagerly to lunch, and I mess up several things that I should have been able to get right on the first try. I end up taking much longer than anyone else to complete all of my tasks.

When we are dismissed for lunch, Four calls to me to have a word with him before I leave. I know this is going to cost me my chance to talk to Erica, but even more upsetting is the fact that I'm getting lectured by Four. He is arranging parts of a disassembled rifle on a table when I approach him.

"Rain, I'm concerned about how you're looking in the rankings," he begins. I say nothing, but swallow hard. I have a feeling this is going to be very bad.

"I know you're capable of more," he continues. "I think the problem is that you need extra time for training in the things that you are good at, to boost your confidence, and that will put you in the right state of mind for the rest of the training. I saw something similar in one of the girls last year. I spent some extra time helping her in her weakest areas like this, and she started improving almost right away. She finished initiation in the top five."

"Are you… are you saying you want to train me like that?" I ask, astounded that someone like Four would single someone like me out.

"Me? No, I can't. It's not allowed because I'm an instructor now. But I can set up some extra training time with another one of the initiates," he replies. "Thing is, you can't let anyone know about it; either that I set it up, or that you're doing extra training. Agreed?"

"Agreed," I nod vigorously. I knew that the last two days hadn't been good ones for me, but I didn't know that they were so severely affecting my rankings. Then, out of curiosity, I ask: "Who are you going to get to do it?"

"I haven't decided yet, but I'll let you know when I do. Go ahead and go to lunch," his tone makes it clear that he's done discussing the matter.

I leave the training room. I reach the Pit at the height of the lunch rush, and I know that trying to get to the initiates' tables is going to take forever in this crowd and I'll never manage to get something to eat. Instead, I approach a mostly empty table that has trays of cheese and sliced meats in abundance. I grab a clean plate and pile a few slices of each onto it. I decide to eat as I walk back to the initiates' tables, but just as I am about to leave I hear a familiar name from one of the men sitting at the table from which I took the food.

"…Dante's idea. He thinks a woven mesh of titanium on the surface would do the trick."

I stop dead in my tracks and whip around. The three men at the table don't even notice me. I peer at the one who was speaking, and I am shocked that I didn't notice it the first time I looked at him. His hair is shorter, but he has the same strong cheekbones, same straight nose, and the same broad shoulders and lean frame as Dante. The only thing missing is the fiery brown eyes- his look like they are a grayish-hazel. This has got to be one of his brothers- probably Dale, whom he mentioned last night. I catch myself staring at him, then turn away quickly before he can catch me doing the same. As I retreat, I hear one of the others reply.

"That kid brother of ours has an amazing talent for this stuff. I guess that's what he does in his free time; coming up with stuff like that. How many times has he helped you out on these projects now? Three?" His voice sounds almost exactly like Dante's only rougher, scratchier.

"Five, I think," chimes in a third voice. "Don't forget his ideas for the…"

The voice disappears into the cacophony of sound that is the Pit at mealtime. I realize that I practically just stole my lunch from Dante's brothers. I must be smiling about it, because the first thing Erica says to me when I reach the initiates' tables is:

"Well, someone must be having a good day. What the hell happened to you last night? I was looking for you at dinner!"

There are too many people around to tell her what happened, plus Dante is sitting within earshot. I'm not going to say anything to Erica about that part of my night just yet.

"Let's just say that I didn't do so well in my match against Nate yesterday, and I ended up in the infirmary. Harrison and Four thought I might get a concussion from it. But don't worry, I didn't," I tell her. It's not exactly a lie. I glance at Dante. He's not looking at me, but he is giving the cheese sandwich in front of him a very tense stare. I can see that he's worried that I'll say something.

"I had an awful headache, though," I continued, loud enough for Dante to hear me, "so I went to bed." Again, not lying, but not telling the whole story.

"But you're okay now?" Erica asks, looking concerned.

"Of course I am," I smile, again reminded how nice it is to have a friend that worries about me. "But how about you? How is training going?"

We talk about how Eric's techniques differ from Harrison's, and how, subsequently, the Dauntless-born training regimens are becoming very different from the transfers'. There is some debate among us whether this is because of our factions of origin, or if Eric is just trying to instill a new regiment that will be adopted by all initiates in the future. He is in a position of greater influence than Harrison and Four, after all.

As expected, we don't have much time to visit. As we are leaving, Erica reaches into her pocket and pulls out a piece of paper. It's folded into quarters and taped closed around the edges.

"Someone asked me to give this to you," she says as she hands it to me. I take it dumbly; who would send me a message through my best friend? I look up, and Dante has already left the room.

"Who?" I ask.

"Someone," Erica says, a smile spreading across her face. She winks at me, and turns and dashes away down the hall. The first thought in my head is: Dante gave her a note to pass on to me. He is still too shy to talk to me in public, but he knows that his neighbor, and now fellow initiate, is friendly with me. As soon as I leave the Pit, I tear it open and read it.

_Chasm 9:00 tonight_

It's handwritten, and that's all it says. I am convinced that it's Dante who sent it.

I have to focus much harder during the second half of training, which is rifle target practice, but Four's lecture has hit home and I realize how important it is for me to stay sharp at all times during training. I end up surprising myself and doing much better than I thought I could. Afterward, I rush through my shower, eager to get to dinner so I can ask Erica more about the note she gave me, but I am disappointed when I get to our usual table in the Pit and find her absent. I notice that Dante isn't around, either. Disappointed, I take a seat between Nate and Joseph and eat my dinner without really tasting it.

I have two hours to kill between dinner and my meeting with Dante at the Chasm, so I decide to get a tattoo. There are two artists on duty when I get to the parlor, and neither is busy. I browse the flash art on the walls for a few minutes and decide on a black image of the sun. The sun will always remind me of the Amity farms, but it also reminds me that every day it rises, and every day presents new chances and experiences. I get the tattoo on my left shoulder blade.

At nine o'clock sharp I walk down the hall from the Pit to the Chasm with a white square of gauze covering my new ink. As I come around the bend, I see a tall male silhouette in the dim light at the end of the railing, in the same spot where we stood last night. He has his back to me, his hands shoved in the pockets of his cargo pants. His posture looks more relaxed than usual.

"Hey," I call out as I approach. He turns around.

But it's not Dante; it's Four.


	7. Chapter 7

"Thanks for coming. Sorry is was such short notice," Four greets me.

I don't respond; I can't. I was so sure that it was Dante, so sure he wanted to see me again. Something inside me deflates, and is immediately replaced with a swarm of insects that are raging to get out. My pulse speeds up, heart beating wildly. Why on Earth would Four send me a note through Erica, asking me to meet him here, an hour before curfew?

He takes a few steps towards me, stopping when he is within arm's reach. He peers at my face, his eyebrows knit together over his intensely blue eyes. "Something wrong?" He asks. "I thought you wanted help."

Oh, so that's what this is all about. I am relieved, but still disappointed at the same time. I do want help, but I also want to talk to Dante again. I weigh the two desires in my mind. The scales tip even. I take a deep breath.

"I do," I breathe out. "It's just… I didn't expect it to happen so fast."

"Well, initiation doesn't last forever. You don't have long before the end of the first half, and right now you're ranking is not looking good. At all. You really don't have any time to waste," he explains.

I swallow hard. I knew I wasn't doing well, but I figured I had to be doing better than some of the others. Four, however, makes it sound like I am near the bottom of the rankings. I guess I really have to start working much harder than I have been, and right away.

He leads me away from the Chasm and across the Pit. We are not heading toward the training rooms that we've been using for the last five days; we are going down the hallway past the Dauntless-born dorms, toward_ their_ training rooms.

"You got a Dauntless-born initiate to help me train?" I think I've already figured it out, but I want confirmation from Four. He nods as we walk.

"How did you get one of them to do it?" I still can't believe it.

"I asked a few of them. One volunteered," he tells me. And that's when it dawns on me: he gave Erica the note to pass to me because she was the one who volunteered to help with my training. I smile a little when I think about how Erica has been looking out for me and sticking up for me since we met; and now this. She is undeniably the best friend I have ever had.

We reach the door to the Dauntless-born training rooms; identical in every way to ours at the other end of the compound. Four pushes through them and into the dark cavern. He instructs me to wait while he turns on a light. A single fixture brightens, illuminating the fighting ring in the middle of the room. The ring is empty.

"I will be watching and instructing the two of you for the first few nights only. That's to make sure that I think your training regimen is heading in the right direction, and to make sure you're not breaking curfew. Any more than that would be too much of a risk, for you two and for me," Four informs me. "We're going to start simple. Tonight, I want you doing sprints for ten minutes; then sparring for ten minutes. You proved today that you handle a weapon competently when you're taking this seriously, but your hand-to-hand combat needs… improvement."

"Okay, well, the clock's ticking. Is she usually late for stuff?" I am eager to get moving on this.

"She?" asks Four; he sounds amused. Then I see a movement in the darkness to one side of the ring; a shadow that's a deeper darkness than that around it. Someone is walking toward the ring, someone much too tall to be Erica. I watch like I'm in a dream. I feel like this isn't really happening. Step by step, my training partner enters the circle of light in the ring. It's Dante.

"You?" I whisper, awestruck. Of all the Dauntless-born initiates that Four asked, it was Dante who volunteered to help me?

The light shines straight down on him, highlighting the deep brown color of his hair with a silver gleam. His eyes are hidden in the shadow beneath his brow and the hollows beneath his cheekbones become dark pits. He wears a black tank top and black pants that appear to be made of the same material as our combat suits, form fitting and flexible. Between the light and his clothing, every muscle is accentuated. He is built the way I always pictured the ideal Dauntless soldier: no extra bulk, no soft spots; nothing in excess. He is muscular but lean, strong but not bulky; build for agility, speed, and stamina.

I walk toward the ring, toward the light; toward Dante, my new training partner. Slowly I step into the ring and face him. He is much, much taller than me- I have to look up to make eye contact with him. When he meets my gaze with his eyes, his face is lost in the shadows. I can't make out a single feature. But mine- mine is bathed in light because I am looking up. I can't hide my expression in the shadows like he can.

Four turns on the lights only at the far end of the room. He's not taking any chances, lighting only the areas farthest from the door and draping his jacket over its window. He instructs us to run from the ring to the edge of the lighted area, then turn and run back again. We are allowed to stop and catch our breath for thirty seconds when we reach the ring again; then do another rep. We keep that up for ten minutes. This is designed to increase agility and provide a cardio workout. I knew that I was a good runner before, but Dante, I learn, is almost as fast, and much more agile. He shifts his momentum much more quickly when we reach the far end of our course and is able to turn much faster. He is ahead of me as we start our return sprint, even though I was in the lead on the way out. He beats me to the finish every time.

Next up is sparring. Four orders me to attack Dante while he defends, and of course he easily deflects each strike. After my third attack, which he brushes aside like it's nothing, he changes position and stands beside me.

"Watch me," he instructs. He takes an attack stance, focuses on the air in front of us, and attacks. His is swift and fierce and powerful. He straightens and returns to my side. "Now stand how I stand, and do what I do."

He returns to his attack stance, and I mimic him as best I can. He shakes his head, and moves behind me.

"Balance your weight like this," he places his hands on my hips and shifts me forward. "Keep your right shoulder back, squared with your right shoulder," he brings one hand up to my shoulder to shift its position. "This presents your body's narrowest angle to your opponent, giving them less of a target. It also sets your balance up for forward or backward momentum, depending on who moves first. Now," he steps in front of me, "throw a punch the way Four showed you."

I do as he says, and I feel more power behind my attack this time. But Dante again deflects it easily. He wraps his fingers around my fist for a moment, studying me. I feel prickles creeping along my hand and up my wrist from the places his fingers are touching my skin.

"You don't have as much upper body strength as the bigger initiates," he observes, "so here's what you need to do. Don't stop your punch when it makes contact, or at the point where you see that it will make contact. Aim for a point about six inches behind your target. Now attack me again."

I reset myself, standing the way he told me while he takes a position across from me. He turns to face me, and I glimpse his eyes as he drops into a defensive crouch. It's as though I feel their fire burning into mine, and I lunge forward, aiming for his forearm but striking toward his shoulder behind it. I feel my fist make contact…and his arm gives way to my blow. He steps back then straightens slowly. I glance over at Four, still holding my stance. He has his chin resting on one hand, watching me intently. He nods, and steps back into the shadows.

By the end of the session, my knuckles and forearms are bruised and aching, but I feel like I've accomplished something. I follow Four and Dante quietly out of the training room after we've turned off the lights. Four reminds us of the time, and that we don't have much left before curfew. We can't risk being seen together, so he leaves first, heading back toward the Pit. We wait a few minutes as our eyes adjust to the darkness.

We are alone again, but it's almost like we've started over. Dante is withdrawn and silent. I know I'll have to be the one to speak first.

"Thank you," I say, feeling awkward all over again, "for going along with this. For volunteering to help me." For a few moments he doesn't say anything. He just stares at the ground with his arms crossed, leaning against the training room door.

"You're welcome," he says, his voice so low I barely hear it. Then he straightens. "You can go ahead now. It'll take you longer to get back to your dorm than it will for me."

"You're right. Well," I pause, feeling the awkwardness inside me growing, just as it did last night when we parted ways, "thanks again. Good night."

"Yeah, see you tomorrow."

The next several days blur together. I train with the transfer initiates all day, then do the power sessions with Dante and Four at night. At first it's the three of us, with Four guiding our training program and observing our progress. On the fifth night, it's just Dante and I. We go through the exercises as Four laid them out for us, but neither of us speaks. In fact, we haven't had a conversation like that first one since we started with the training sessions.

I realize this at the end of the fifth night, as we are leaving the training room. Dante has barely spoken a word to me tonight, and when he has it's only to instruct me. And outside of training, he doesn't even acknowledge me at all anymore. I am beginning to wonder if he is getting bored with this; if maybe he is having second thoughts. I look back at him after he closes the door to the training room. He's staring at the floor again, pointedly not making eye contact with me. I start to feel anger boiling up in my chest. I clench my teeth, glaring at him for a moment, then I turn on my heel and stomp away. If he doesn't want to train with me, he should just say so. I'm sure Four could get Erica to help instead.

I lie awake for a long time that night. Dante has become the single most frustrating aspect of my life. He says he'll try to treat me like a person, then he shuts down completely. He volunteers to help me train, then gives me no encouragement or feedback. I wonder if it's worth going back to train with him the next night. As much as he intimidates me, I liked it better when Four was there. At least Four spoke to me, told me when I did something right. Dante doesn't even do that; it's like he's just going through the motions so he can get it over with.

In regular training the next day, I am pitted against Nate again for sparring. I am distracted by how frustrated I am by Dante, but Harrison is watching this fight and I know it will affect my rankings. I watch Nate's movements closely, but he still gets the first hit on me; a glancing blow to the temple. My vision blurs, turning red around the edges. I drop into a defensive crouch, waiting for his next attack. Nate's face comes into focus, and for a split second his eyes burn into mine. Somehow my mind superimposes Dante's face over Nate's. I shift into attack, aiming for the back of his skull. I land two solid blows: a fist to his eye and an elbow to his solar plexus. He goes down with a groan, and I am over him in a heartbeat. I can't give him the chance to get back on his feet. I close the distance between us, giving him no room to swing. I bring my right fist back, and then slam my knuckles sharply into his jaw. Suddenly he's Nate again; his eyes lose focus and his limbs go limp. I stand up. Nate is out cold and I've won the match. I turn back to face Harrison. He and Four are side by side, and they exchange a surprised glance as I leave the ring. I just beat the strongest guy in our group, after losing to him badly just a few days ago.

At dinner later, sitting between Spencer and Joseph, I decide I don't want to train with Dante that night. I beat Nate, so I've proven myself for the day. I leave the Pit while the dinner crowd is still in full force, hoping that neither Dante nor Four will catch me slipping back to the dorms.

I have every intention of hitting the showers and going to bed, but instead I find myself drawn to the Chasm. I make a detour and find myself at the railing, all alone. I stare down into the darkness of the churning waters, losing myself in my thoughts. I am getting better; I must be, otherwise there was no way I could have beaten Nate so quickly. I tell myself that I don't need the extra training anymore, and that I don't care what Dante will think when I don't show up tonight.

People come and go along the Chasm as I stand there, but no one I know. No one speaks to me. I stand there leaning on the railing for what must be a very long time. When I look up again, only two lights are still on and the whole area is silent. It must be near curfew. I start walking back toward the dorms, but as I am rounding the bend leading away from the Chasm, I collide with a body that's hurrying in the opposite direction. I mumble an apology, but suddenly I find my wrists being squeezed by a pair of very strong hands. Suddenly frightened, I look up…

…into Dante's fiery glare.

"What are you doing here?" he growls.

"Going to bed," I reply tersely. I try to wrench my wrists from his grasp, but he is too strong. "Stop, Dante. You're hurting me!" He just squeezes harder.

"I'm hurting you? _I _am hurting _you? _ Oh, that's a good one. How do you think I felt when you didn't show up for training tonight? How do you think I felt after waiting for you for an hour, then asking Erica if she'd seen you, and she told me that you'd left the Pit halfway through dinner? And then when someone else told me they'd seen you staring into the Chasm for an hour?"

"What are you saying?" I ask him, not understanding.

"I'm saying that I was afraid you had…" he trails off, releasing one of my wrists, and gesturing back towards the Chasm.

"That I'd…what? Jumped?" I glare at him. "Do you think I'm stupid? Why the hell would I jump? I was just avoiding you."

He releases my other wrist, frowning. "Avoiding me? Why?"

"Because you've done nothing but give me the cold shoulder since we started training together, Dante! You said you'd treat me like a normal person, but you went right back on that, didn't you? You decided that you didn't like training with me, so you've just been going through the motions until it's over. Why did you even volunteer in the first place?!" I am shouting at him, and I can feel hot tears of rage burning in my eyes. I blink them back, glaring into his.

He stares back at me, looking completely dumbfounded.

"Is that really what you think is going on here?" He asks, his voice so quiet that I can barely hear him.

"Yes, it is! You haven't even spoken to me normally since that first time. You don't even try to talk to me at all anymore. Well, if that's how you want it, fine! Consider yourself relieved of your duty as my training partner. I'm much better now, so I probably don't even need you anymore!" I have never, ever spoken so harshly to anyone in my life. In Amity, arguing was strictly forbidden. I thought it would make me feel better to get this all out and tell Dante what I think of his actions, but I don't. I feel worse.

"Well, if that's what you want, I'll respect that," Dante says quietly. "But on two conditions. First: you have to tell Four that you aren't training with me anymore; and second, you have to come with me to the training room… right now. It will just take a few minutes, then you'll be free to go."

"Why do you want me to go to the training room with you?" I ask apprehensively.

"Because I brought you something tonight. I left it there, and I want you to see it," he replies. I glare at him silently. "Please," he says. That is when I realize that he's been looking me in the eye for the entire conversation instead of staring at the floor like usual.

"Fine," I say, then glance back over my shoulder. "Don't worry about the Chasm. I'd never be tempted to jump off it, no matter how bad things got."

"Okay," he says softly. "Come on."

I follow him to the training room. All the lights are off when we arrive. He instructs me to wait by the door, then turns on the single fixture above the fighting ring. In its center is a book with a worn- looking, brown cover. I walk over slowly, then pick up the book and glance back at Dante.

"Open it," his voice is little more than a whisper, his eyes burning bright in the dim light.

I open the cover and turn to the first page. It is written in a familiar hand.

_-Chasm 9:00 tonight- _I remember the note I got a few nights ago. This is the same handwriting. That's when I figure out that I'm holding Dante's journal. I raise my eyes quickly and close the book with a snap.

"Dante!" I gasp. "Why are you showing me this?"

"Because," he takes a few steps toward me, "there are some things I want you to know about me. Things that I wanted to tell you every day since that first night that you found me by the Chasm, but I have no idea where to begin. That's why I haven't been so talkative lately. I was just…looking for the right words, but they never came. So I figured I'd let you read them. I've always been better at writing than talking, anyway."

"Are you sure?" I whisper. In the open chamber of the deserted training room, a whisper can be almost as loud as a shout.

He reaches the ring and takes a seat on its edge. He gestures for me to sit beside him; I do. "I'm sure. But I think you should start here…" he takes the book from me, flips to a page near the back, and returns it to me.

"_The Choosing Ceremony was today. I stayed in Dauntless despite my aptitude test result. Or maybe because of it. But I am glad that I did. The faction has some new transfers- one I saved from falling off of the roof above Headquarters. Everyone freaked when I did it, like I knew they would. But she is worth saving, I know it. Dauntless doesn't get many Amity transfers, but the way she walked to the dais and made her choice- without any hesitation at all- you'd think she was born here. Sure got my attention. Her name is Rain."_

I hesitate before turning the page. My heart is pounding and my ears are ringing.

"Keep going," Dante encourages me. He leans in close to read with me. A few strands of his long hair have freed themselves from his trademark ponytail, and they sweep across my bare shoulder. The sensation sends that familiar electric surge through my skin. I shift back to get more comfortable, and our shoulders touch. He leans into me a little more. I feel the heat in my ears, and am glad he's looking at the book instead of my face. I compose myself as best I can, and continue reading.

"_Everywhere I go I see her, that brilliant red braid against the black of the combat suits that I helped Dale design. Erica is always talking about how nice she is, and how full of life. I see it, every time I see her face. It's like she finds joy in living every moment of her life. I wish I could be more like her. I wish I had that kind of strength."_

I swallow hard. Strength? Dante, the statuesque, perfect image of Dauntless, wishes he had _my _strength?

I keep reading…

"_I had a chance tonight and I almost blew it. I had dinner with Rain. Some things about her remind me of Jessie. Things like that sometimes still hurt. Rain said something that Jessie used to say all the time, about belonging where we choose to belong. I kind of shut down after that. I didn't mean to, but dwelling on Jessie isn't going to help me move forward."_

Well, that explained a few things. Next page:

"_Four was asking for someone to help him with a training program today. He said that a potentially brilliant transfer wasn't responding well to Harrison's training techniques, and needed a more intense, focused power session on a regular basis to sharpen her. On the chance that it might be Rain, I volunteered. It wasn't until after I'd said yes that Four told me that it was, in fact, her. The first session was really good, and I think this will help her a lot. I'm happy that I get to be the one to help her; she deserves it. And it means I have a reason to spend a lot of time with her. I think I can safely admit that I feel something for her, something that's more than the friendship I shared with Jessie. The problem is, I have no idea how to tell her…"_

I close the book. I stare straight ahead, my heart pounding. I feel horrible for thinking what I thought, for treating Dante the way I did. I should have remembered what Erica told me, about how shy he's always been; about the losses he's endured. Maybe I would have understood him better if I'd just tried.

"Dante, I'm… so sorry," I whisper. "I didn't… I had no idea…" my voice cracks. I am on the verge of tears again, but this time not tears of anger.

"Don't apologize," he shakes his head, and more strands of his hair fall across my shoulder. I hand the journal back to him almost reverently, then slowly bring my eyes up to meet his. "I would have thought the same thing about me, if I was you."

I don't say anything. He cups my face in his hands. I close my eyes and lean into his kiss.


	8. Chapter 8

When I was three, we raised a flock of chickens on our farm. I remember watching the chicks hatch in the giant incubator that my father and some of our neighbors had built together. I was allowed to hold the chicks in my lap a few times when they still had their baby down. I remember how their tiny feet tickled my hands and legs as they walked on me, and how soft their downy bodies were. I thought I'd never like any sensation more than their softness in my hands.

But Dante has changed that, changed it with many new sensations: the loose strands of his long hair brushing my bare shoulder as he sat beside me; the static feel of his skin touching mine; the way my heart jumps every time I look into his fire-colored eyes. And his lips against mine are softer than anything else in the world.

And now I find myself as much at a loss for words as Dante. We sit side by side on the edge of the sparring ring, leaning into each other. The only sound is our breathing, and the pounding of my pulse in my ears. Dante has one arm draped across my back, his fingers resting on my hip. I hold his other hand between both of mine. The corner of his mouth brushes my temple as he rests his head against mine. Neither of us speaks for a long time. It's like we're both afraid to break the spell.

"I hate to say this," I whisper finally, "but it's got to be close to curfew. We should go."

"I know," Dante replies. "But… I wish we didn't." He slides his arm almost reluctantly from my back and I release his hand. He reaches for the journal in his lap and rises to his feet. "I also wish I could have told you those things myself, but I'm really no good at talking about myself. I have almost zero practice in that.

"There's more that I want to tell you, too. There are some things in what you read that I'm sure didn't make any sense to you. I want to explain…" he trails off as I rise, and reach up to brush my fingertips across his cheek.

"It's okay," I assure him. "I actually feel privileged; that you let me read what you wrote about me. That's very brave. Even more than saying it out loud, I think. Because when you wrote that, I doubt that you did it with the intention of letting me read it. That takes guts."

He leans down and kisses me again; softly, slowly. I close my eyes. I feel like I'm floating. When he pulls away, I'm breathless.

"I hope this means that you're not otherwise attached," he murmurs. I shake my head. "Good." His voice drops to a barely-audible whisper for that single word.

When we leave the training room, we both hesitate. Dante glances around, then takes both of my hands in his.

"Listen, Rain," he whispers, "we have to keep this under wraps for now… for several reasons. Leadership frowns on initiates dating. It distracts us from our training, and it can affect our ranking. Plus, if one initiate doesn't make the cut, it increases the chances of his or her partner dropping out of the faction. And most importantly, if Four finds out, he'll put a stop to our training sessions… which, I now take it, you'd like to continue."

I don't even have to think about it. "Of course I do. And yeah, I understand. We'll just have to go on acting like we're nothing more than acquaintances until… until…"

"Until after initiation," Dante brushes a stray lock out of my face. "And I know you'll make the cut. You've got Four and me both behind you. We believe in you. Just believe in yourself and I'm sure you can do it."

I smile up at him. When he says it, I can believe it.

"Well, goodnight, Dante. And thank you," I whisper. He places a gentle kiss on my forehead as he releases my hands.

"Goodnight, Rain. I'll see you tomorrow night."

We turn away from the door simultaneously and head toward our respective dorms. Everyone is still awake when I arrive, sitting on the edges of their bunks and chattering away. Leah spots me first as I enter the room. She is sitting in a group with Nicole, who transferred from Candor with Nate; and Amos, who is the only transfer from Abnegation this year.

"Well, you sure look chipper, considering the late hour. Why are you always the last one to get back from dinner?" She asks. The others turn to face me. I feel my ears starting to burn. It's silly, I know, but I feel like they just caught me doing something I wasn't supposed to.

"I've been doing some extra workouts. Just basic fitness stuff. I got permission from Four. He says it helps boost my confidence to practice things I'm already good at. So mostly I just run laps," I tell them. Not entirely a lie. "What are you guys talking about?"

"Just gossiping, really," Nicole says flippantly. "Some of us don't think it's fair that we are being ranked against the Dauntless-born when we have to train separately. I mean, they've had all their lives to prepare for this. We've had less than two weeks, and in two more weeks, some of us are getting cut. We just don't think it's fair, because if we are training at the same level, then they'll all be better than us."

"Well, I can tell you for a fact that we're not being trained on the same level. The Dauntless-born are trained on a whole different level, in a whole different way," I tell them, then immediately regret it. I have said way, way too much. Leah catches it.

"How do you know what their training is like?" Leah asks, peering suspiciously at me.

"I…uh… I was talking to Four. He told me," I fumble with my weak answer.

"Funny," Leah says slowly, "seems like you sure are spending a lot of time with Four lately. Is that where you've really been every night? With _Four, _trying to sweeten him up to better your rankings? Are you that desperate, Rain?"

I feel anger boiling in my chest, but I suppress it quickly. I force a laugh.

"I don't think Four could be sweet-talked by anyone, least of all me. Nope, I asked him about it when Nate nearly gave me a concussion the other day. He said that Eric is trying out new, unconventional training techniques on them, that's all," I try to sound casual.

"Uh huh, sure, whatever," Leah gives me a look; then turns her back on me. I roll my eyes, and act like it's no big deal. But I know I'd better watch my mouth from here on out. The last thing that Four, or Dante, or I myself, needs is for me to slip up and give away something. "It's lights out, anyway." I slip into my bed, and as soon as darkness engulfs me, I drift back to the time I spent sitting next to Dante in the sparring ring tonight.

The closest thing I've ever had to a boyfriend before was Ben, who used to leave me bouquets of wildflowers before the Choosing ceremony- completely unrequited on my end. Briefly, I wonder how he's doing in his new faction before my thoughts flit back to Dante. I know I can't call him a boyfriend right now, but it's nice to know I have someone waiting for me once initiation is over: someone who represents the possibility of having a boyfriend. I drift off to sleep, and if I dream, I don't remember when I wake up.

Days pass in a series of training routines, showers, meals, and sleep. I have time for little else. But it's worth it; I am getting better at the things I was once really terrible at, and I am doing much better in armed and hand-to-hand combat. I'm nowhere near being the best, but I'm definitely no longer one of the worst. Each time a match ends with a win or in a draw for me during regular training, I see Four's nod of approval. This is good, because it means the training sessions with Dante are working.

And they still are training sessions… mostly. We try to stay focused on the real reason that we're both there, but we do steal a goodnight kiss right after we turn out the lights in the Dauntless-born training room every night. We won't risk any more than that.

At the end of the first two weeks, our first rankings are announced. We know that ultimately only ten initiates will be allowed to join Dauntless, and that three initiates are being cut today. Everyone gathers in our training room for the announcement, including the Dauntless-born initiates. The announcement is made after dinner, so this is the first respite that Dante and I have taken from the training routines. I walk casually through the room, making it appear that I choose my place to stand for the announcement at random, but I deliberately come to a stop beside Dante. We don't look at each other. But as the crowd starts pressing in when Eric enters carrying the chalkboard- turned backwards so we can't see what's written on it- we are shoved against each other. Dante grabs my hand and gives it a quick, reassuring squeeze, then releases it. We remain beside each other, my shoulder brushing his tricep. Then Eric flips the board around to face us.

Dante is in first place. I am in eleventh. The initiates listed fourteenth through eighteenth are cut. Leah and Amos have been cut, along with two of the Dauntless-born. I look around the room for them, but I can't find them anywhere. I get the feeling that they were told earlier to avoid humiliation, and were quietly slipped out a back door and sent to the Factionless section. I am sorry that I never got to say goodbye; while I didn't know Amos much at all and Leah was never a real friend to me, I do feel terrible that they've been cut.

Before we leave, Eric announces that Visiting Day will take place tomorrow, and that we will have a three-day rest period, including tomorrow, before the next stage of initiation begins. We can spend our time off however we like, as long as we abide by Dauntless rules for initiates. Basically he means that none of us are to leave Dauntless headquarters without being accompanied by a Dauntless member.

I had nearly forgotten about Visiting Day, as wrapped up as I've been in everything that's happening. I wonder if my parents will come see me. I like to think that they will, but at the same time, I am a little apprehensive about seeing them again. I don't know how I'll react if they do come. I don't know how I'll react if they don't come, either.

With an hour to go before curfew, I make my way to the Pit. There is one heck of a party going on, celebrating the end of round one and those who passed it. Not only are the initiates celebrating, but many full-fledged members are in attendance as well.

I lost track of Dante while I was looking for Leah and Amos, but I find him again sometime later in the Pit. He is standing off to one side with three Dauntless members. As I pass them, I recognize them as the three whose table I took my lunch last week: presumably, Dante's brothers. The four of them are passing around a dark bottle from which they are all drinking. I try to just walk past casually, not wanting to interrupt his time with his family. But as I am walking away, I hear him call my name.

"Hey, Rain!" I turn as though I hadn't known he was there. He's looking right at me, standing straighter than I've ever seen him… outside of a training ring, that it. His head is up, and his shoulders and arms are relaxed. He holds the bottle in one hand, and has the thumb of his free hand is hooked through a belt loop on his black jeans. I don't think I've ever seen him wear anything other than our training gear, either. He walks from the shadowy corner into the glare of the harsh overhead light. He walks slowly, without his usual deliberate direction. I wonder how long they've been passing that bottle between them.

"Hey, Dante," I say, trying to sound casual. He stops a few feet away from me, seeming to suddenly remember. He pauses, uncertain, but only for a moment.

"Come over here. I want you to meet some people," he beckons me toward the corner. Three sets of full-fledged Dauntless members' eyes are trained on me, and I find this very unnerving. But I follow Dante over.

"Guys, this is Rain. She's the one I pulled back onto the roof on Choosing Day," he tells them, then turns to me. "Rain, these are my brothers: Dale, Dameon, and Derrick." He introduces me to each, indicating who's who by pointing the mouth of the bottle at them.

"Well, it's good to finally meet you, Rain," Derrick says. "We've all been curious about the recipient of our kid brother's heroic rescue." Derrick has his septum pierced, and a tattoo of black vines that covers the entirety of his throat. He has the same brown hair as Dante, but his eyes are a paler color like the others'.

Dale, clearly the oldest, extends his hand toward me. I grasp it and he shakes mine firmly. "Nice to finally have a face to go with the name," he says. He is shorter than the rest, but the deep smile lines and creases on his forehead mark him as the Big Brother of the group.

Dante passes the bottle to Dameon, who takes a swig, then offers it to me. I shake my head; I've never had alcohol in my life. A lopsided grin spreads across his handsome face. He appears to be closest in age to Dante, but still clearly several years older.

"Not a drinker?" Dameon asks. I shake my head again. His grin spreads as he raised the bottle to his lips. "Well, in Dauntless, that's likely to change. Anyway, it's nice to meet you. And congrats on getting through Stage One." He takes a drink, but his pale eyes stay on me.

"Thank you," I say, feeling a shy smile tugging at the corners of my mouth. "It's nice to meet you all, too."

"Hey, did you eat anything yet?" Dante asks me. "Because I haven't and I'm starving. Want to join me for a hot dog?" Without waiting for a reply, he leads me away from his brothers. "Guys, I'll catch up to you later. Save some of that for me!" he calls back to them.

As soon as we're out of earshot, I turn to Dante and narrow my eyes at him.

"What was that all about?" I ask.

"Dameon," he says without looking at me. "He gets this… _look _when he starts flirting with a girl. And you just witnessed it."

I put a hand over my mouth to suppress the surprised laugh that bursts out of me. Dante's handsome older brother, flirting with _me_? Dante gives me a sideways glance.

"I would have been very jealous. I don't stand a chance against charm like his," he confides quietly. I elbow him in the ribs.

"Stop that. I'm not interested in Dameon."

"Yeah, famous last words."

"I'm serious! He could send me flowers every day and I still wouldn't be interested."

"No? Well, okay then. I guess I won't have to be jealous," Dante smiles a little. I nudge him again, and return his smile.

"Still want that hot dog? Because I really am very hungry," I ask.

"Absolutely. And I know: no bun," he replies. That makes me really smile: he remembered!

We find the hot dogs and retreat to an alcove at the edge of the Pit to eat them. Suddenly, I hear running feet behind me. I spin around to see Erica rushing up to me. She was ranked seventh, so I knew she was staying, but I had been focused on looking for Amos and Leah earlier. This is the first chance I've had to congratulate her. I step subtly away from Dante as she reaches me, focusing on her and hoping that she won't even notice him standing in the shadows, but she is way too perceptive.

We chatter about our rankings and congratulate each other for a few seconds, but then she looks over my shoulder and freezes, a shocked expression on her face. I glance back. Dante is standing just outside of the alcove, fully in the light, watching us with that small smile. Erica's eyes dart back and forth between us.

"Hey, Erica," Dante greets her.

"Hi, Dante," she answers sluggishly, then she focus on me and I can see the pieces falling into place in her head.

"Wait… are you two…" she leaves her question hanging. I just shrug, and drop my gaze. But my smile and my burning ears give me away.

"Seriously?!" She exclaims. Dante and I both hush her.

"Erica, please," I hiss. "We really don't want anyone to know anything just yet. You know, being initiates and all."

"Oh geez," she drops her voice. "Yeah, that's no problem. I won't say a word. As far as anyone's concerned, I don't know anything. Secret's totally safe with me. But oh, wow! This is just… wow! Okay, I'll leave you guys alone now. See you tomorrow at breakfast!"

And with that she retreats, disappearing into the crowd. Dante and I return to the alcove.

"Think she'll say anything?" I ask him. He shakes his head.

"No. I've known Erica for a long time. She'll keep her word."


	9. Chapter 9

Special allowances are made tonight in celebration of the initiates who are continuing to Round Two: we don't have to observe our usual curfew. I spend only a little of my extra time with Dante, during which it becomes apparent that he really has had a bit too much to drink. I worry about sending him back to his brothers because I know they're going to pour more alcohol into him, but I also respect the fact that he is his own person and can make his own decisions. I have no right to keep him from spending time with his family, and no say in what he puts into his body. I'm barely more than an acquaintance.

An acquaintance that he kisses. An acquaintance to whom he showed his personal journal in order to tell me that he likes me, and wanted to be more than a friend.

But I still feel like I barely know him. I still know no more about his past than what Erica told me, and he doesn't even know that I know that. After I return Dante to the charge of his brothers- who haven't left their spot near the entrance- I set out to find Erica. I want to make sure she will keep her promise to Dante and me. But after combing the floor of the Pit for almost an hour, I haven't seen any sign of her. Exasperated and growing tired, I decide to head back to the dorms. I am halfway across the floor when I hear someone shout my name. I turn toward the sound, and spot Four striding toward me.

"Congratulations," he says when he reaches me. "I'm glad everything worked out. Now, Stage Two is very different from Stage One, and training the way you have been isn't going to be much help. So after tonight, I don't want you guys using the training room. It's too risky, and not necessary anymore."

"But… it helped me so much…" I feel my pulse pick up. If Four shuts us down, Dante and I lose our outlet for spending time together every night. My mind races, grasping for reasons to continue our sessions. I feel like Four has just pulled the rug out from under me. How else will Dante and I ever find time to spend time with each other, away from the gossip of the other initiates and from the scrutinizing eyes of our trainers and leaders?

"I know, Rain. And I'm glad that it did, but now it has to stop. Remember that I'm at risk here, too," he reminds me. He's right, of course. If Dante and I are caught in a training room alone, our instructors will be investigated. They are not supposed to offer special treatment to any initiates, and seeing as Four is an instructor-in-training, he could get in serious trouble that could jeopardize his career.

"I understand," I say, knowing the disappointment is evident in my voice. "But can you do me one favor?"

Four sets his jaw. He doesn't look too happy about the idea of compromising. "What is it?" He asks coldly.

"Let me be the one to tell Dante."

He studies me for a moment, his blue eyes boring into mine. His shoulders drop and he gives his head a small shake.

"Unbelieveable," he mutters. Then, "Fine. Tell him before tomorrow night. And I _will_ be checking all of the training rooms, regularly, to make sure they're not occupied."

He turns on his heel and retreats without waiting for my response. I am confused: does this guy trust me, or doesn't he?

I know that tonight is not a good time to tell Dante that we have to end our training nights. I am a jumble of emotions, so I decide to just return to the dorm to try to relax and maybe get some sleep. I arrive to find all the lights on, but only one person is in the room: Spencer. With everything else that was going on, I almost forgot about him. But now it is evident that he has been in here almost all night, probably trying to avoid contact with everyone else.

He is sitting on his bunk with his back to me, facing the wall. His knees are drawn up to his chest, arms wrapped tightly around his legs. His face is pressed to his knees, and it's clear that he is crying. I can't blame him: his twin sister just failed Stage One and must now live factionless for the rest of their lives.

"Spencer," I call softly.

"Go away," he sobs. I am not surprised by his words, but the animosity in his tone is heartbreaking.

"I won't," I say gently.

"Go away, Rain. Leave me alone."

"Listen," I say, more firmly, "I am not going to say that I understand how you feel, or give you any advice on what to do now: like how to feel, or what your family would want you to do. Doing that would just be a lie, because I don't know any of those things. But I do understand what loss is like on some level. All of the transfers do. If you want to push us away, that's up to you. But most of us are more than willing to offer support. Maybe I can't give you advice, but I can listen if you ever want to talk."

He doesn't reply, just continues to sob softly into his knees. I grab my pajamas and a towel and head for the showers. I spend a long time just standing in the hot water, letting it wash over me like rain.

I remember how it rained on the day of the Choosing Ceremony. I remember slipping on the slick tile on the edge of the roof above Dauntless Headquarters. I remember Dante grabbing me and pulling me to safety. I remember Eric's taunt that I should have kissed Dante for that. My mind wanders, and I find myself picturing what it would have been like to kiss him in the rain on that rooftop. It then occurs to me that I never did properly thank him for saving me. I owe him that.

The water starts to get cold so I finish my shower, towel off, and slip into the lightweight pants and tank top (black, of course) that serve as my pajamas. Our shower room is right next to the dorms, so it's a short walk back. Upon my return, I find that Spencer hasn't changed position, but his head is up and he's staring at the wall now. He's not crying anymore. His head turns slightly at the sound of me entering the room, but remains with his body facing the wall.

"Rain?" he calls softly.

"Yeah," I answer flatly.

"I just wanted… just to say thanks. What you said; it means a lot. Made me think about how I should go on from here. I mean, I passed the first stage of Dauntless training, right? So that means I belong here, at least for now. So I should act like the Dauntless and just move on…." His words are decisive, but his tone is not. He sounds like he's asking for reassurance, or approval.

"You're right," I tell him with confidence. "Your sister may not be here anymore, but she'll always be with you as long as you keep her in your heart. And you'll be with her. So, do this for her. Be strong enough, brave enough, for both of you."

He turns to me. His eyes are red and puffy from crying, his cheeks streaked with tears. He looks pathetic, and I suddenly feel very sorry for him.

"Thanks, Rain," he murmurs.

I toss my dirty clothes and damp towel onto my bed and walk across the room to Spencer's bunk, and take a seat next to him, facing the opposite direction. I can see his profile out of the corner of my eye. He doesn't look directly at me.

"Spencer, I'll admit that I didn't know Leah very well, and that she never acted like she wanted to be my friend. But I hope that you and I can be," I glance sideways at him, an uncertain smile flitting at the corners of my mouth.

"I'd like to think that we already are, Rain," his voice is scratchy and rough from crying, barely more than a whisper. My smile widens.

"We are," I assure him. "So whenever you want to talk, I'm here."

"Thank you," he presses his lips together and closes his eyes as another tear slides down his cheek.

"Get some sleep. That sometimes helps me get past a bad day," I advise. Spencer nods. I turn off the lights over the bunks, leaving on only those that illuminate the entrance before settling into my own bunk. I hear Spencer crawl beneath the covers of his own bunk and listen to the sound of his breathing. Eventually it steadies and deepens, and I know that he is asleep. I lie awake for a while thinking about everything: about Erica finding out about Dante and I; about Four cancelling our one-on-one sessions; about Dante introducing me to his brothers, anticipating Visiting Day; worrying about how well I'll do in Stage Two; and about Dante.

I recall his relaxed posture when I found him with his brothers tonight. He usually looks like he's either uncomfortable or ready to kick your ass. I've never seen him look like he's just relaxed and having a good time like he was tonight. I wonder if that was because he was in familiar company, or because of the alcohol. The optimistic part of me wants to believe the former while the hardened part of me suspects the latter. Either way, I am glad that I was able to spend at least a little time with him.

I hear the remainder of my dorm mates filtering into the room and preparing for bed over the next hour. Finally, after everyone has returned and the lights are all off, I drift off to sleep.

I dream of Dante again. I dream that he is standing on top of the roof above the hole we jumped into on Choosing Day. He is wearing the black jeans I saw him in tonight, and a black training jacket. The sun is shining and a light breeze blows through his hair, freeing a few strands from his trademark ponytail. In his hands he holds the brown journal. He extends it to me and I take it. I open it to the first crisp, white page. It's blank. I turn page after page, and they are all blank. Confused, I look up at him. The sun is so bright that I have to squint so I can't see his eyes. But I can see his smile.

"This one is for you to write," he says. I close my eyes and smile, letting the sun warm my face.


	10. Chapter 10

It takes a few moments for me to gather my wits when I wake up. It's the first time in what feels like forever that I have not awoken to the sound of Four or Harrison making some type of racket that is guaranteed to jolt us from our dreams. For a brief moment this does not occur to me, but as soon as it does, I remember the reason: it's Visiting Day.

I am somehow terrified that my family will show up, and terrified that they won't. I glance around the room and see that several of my dorm mates have already risen and left the room, noting markedly that Spencer is not present. I hope he is doing a little better than last night, and that he was able to get enough sleep. I am sure today will be exceptionally difficult for him, whether his parents come to visit him or not. I can't decide which would be worse for him.

It is 7:45 am when I get out of bed. Our families will start showing up after lunch, so I have several hours to kill until then. I have to keep my word to Four and tell Dante that our one-on-ones have been canceled, but because I have missed the big breakfast crowd I am sure that I probably won't see him until at least lunch. With these two things weighing on my mind, I find that I am not hungry so I decide to skip breakfast and go for a run aboveground. I just need to get permission to leave the compound, and an escort to go with me.

I'm in luck; I run into Harrison hanging out with some other Dauntless members outside of the tattoo parlor. Because he is my primary instructor, it's really his permission that I need. He grants it, and gives me the apartment number of a Dauntless member who volunteers as an escort for the initiates. Harrison assures me that she won't mind going for a run.

I follow the steep walkway leading up the wall of the Pit to the housing block that Harrison indicated. I find apartment 18D and knock. A few moments later, the door opens and I find myself face to face with Dale. For a moment I think that I have the wrong apartment; that I must be at the wrong housing block. But Dale smiles and invites me in, almost as though he was expecting me.

"Good to see you again, Rain," he greets me, gesturing for me to enter. "I take it you're here because you need an escort to leave the compound. Carla can be ready in just a few minutes."

I step inside the apartment and look around. It is small and sparsely furnished: a couch a three chairs surround a coffee table in the living room. A black area rug covers the stone floor in the center of the room. The walls are painted with an incredible wrap-around depiction of the city skyline. Dale notices me staring at it.

"It's amazing, isn't it? Took Carla almost a year to complete. Have a seat and I'll let her know you're here," he tells me. I sit in one of the chairs- black, but worn from use and fading to gray on the seat. It is comfortable.

Presently a short woman with copper skin and jet-black hair enters the room. She is small and sturdy; shorter even than I am, but corded with thick muscle. She has dark colored eyes that are alert and bright, and an easy smile.

"Hi Rain, it's nice to meet you," she greets me as she enters. "I'm Carla, Dale's wife. So, what's on your agenda for today?"

"Nice to meet you too, Carla. Thanks for agreeing to come with me." I am a little surprised; I didn't know that Dale was married. I wonder if Derrick is, too. It's pretty clear that Dameon is not.

I tell Carla that I want to do a run aboveground, just for a couple of miles. She nods her approval, and that seems to be the only preparation she needs other than telling her husband what route she intends to take and that we'll be back in an hour or so.

I am glad that she has chosen a route that we initiates commonly used during group training exercises, when we were doing three- and four-mile runs to build our endurance. She explains that this is considered a safe route that keeps us away from riskier areas, where the Factionless gather. I don't know what could be so dangerous about the Factionless, but I don't ask. I've never encountered them directly; just seen them from afar as I traveled in and out of the city from my family's farm.

Our pace is easy, which allows us to have conversations as we run. Carla breaks the ice.

"So I hear you've struck up a friendship with Dante," she says. It's not a question, nor is her tone gossipy, but I can tell she's looking for details.

"Yes. He helped me out on the roof on Choosing Day, and I guess we just… sort of connected. You know, someone saves your life, and you just sort of become friends," I say awkwardly. I don't know how much I should tell Carla.

She laughs softly. "Yeah, I can see how that could happen. Well, I'm glad. Dante is a good kid, but he's never really fit in with many of his peers. He's as smart as a whip- would have done well in Erudite, probably. But he chose to stay in Dauntless, and he definitely belongs. He's the perfect combination of brains and bravery. He'll face any challenge, but not to the point of recklessness. And he'd do anything for his family. He has a huge heart, but no one would ever know it because he's so shy."

"So I've noticed," I reply, thinking about how he resorted to letting me read his journal rather than outright telling me that he liked me because, as he said, he didn't know what to say. Carla laughs again.

"Well, good! Most people his age just think he's rude or aloof, and they don't bother trying to get to know him. I'm glad he's got a friend. And I'm glad it's you."

I'm not sure what she means by that, but I take it as a compliment. Knowing that someone close to Dante thinks that I am good for him sends a warm sensation flooding through my body.

We finish our run at a door by a rear entrance to the compound. A switchback case of metal stairs leads down to the Pit, and we walk the stairs slowly as a cool-down from our run. Carla leaves me at the door to my dormitory, and I see that I still have plenty of time before lunch for a shower. I rifle through my clothes, trying to find something that will make me look presentable to my family, but the only clothes I have are my combat suits, warm-ups, and pajamas. Before my shower I am going to have to hit a clothing store. I have enough points accrued to get a new outfit for Visiting Day.

The clothing store I know best is right next to the tattoo parlor. It is crowded today; a number of initiates have had the same idea as me. I peruse the racks for a bit before I spot a dress made of layers of lightweight, flowing material. I lift it and run my hand down its length. The material flows silkily through my fingers, flowing like water and clinging to nothing. I try it on in a fitting room at the back of a store, and I am struck by the impact it has on my reflection when I step in front of the mirror. Even with my sweat-streaked face and somewhat disheveled braid, the change wrought by the dress is remarkable. My pale skin is accentuated, not in a bad way, by the dark material. The sleeveless design shows off the new musculature in my shoulders and arms, which I notice is refined and feminine, without excess or bulk. The flowing top tapers to a fitted waistline, then the fabric flares at the skirt that ends at my knees. I find myself staring at my reflection. I have never owned a piece of clothing that looked so good on me. It's as though it was designed for me. I am definitely no longer Plain Lorraine in this garment.

It costs me four points, half of what I've earned, but it is totally worth it. I grab a quick bite of lunch in the Pit before I rush back to the showers and begin preparing for Visiting Day. I decide that, with the change to this new dress, I need to make some other changes to my appearance. I decide to leave my hair down instead of braiding it. I haven't worn it loose since I was a small child. After my shower, I brush it until it is dry. It falls in thick, spiraling, auburn curls to my waist. It feels strange as it brushes against my shoulders and the back of my arms. Strange, but good: it reminds me of Dante's hair trailing along my shoulders as we sat side by side in the sparring ring, reading his journal entries about me.

At last, I am ready to go to the Pit to greet whichever members of my family will come see me. I am surprised to see not only the transfers but also many of the Dauntless-born initiates are present in the Pit, as well as our instructors and several of the Dauntless leaders. I suppose some diplomacy to the visiting families is in order, especially for transfer initiates whose parents may play important roles in their factions.

I walk from one end of the Pit to the other and back again. My heart sinks. My family is nowhere to be found. I watch Joseph talking to a middle-aged man and woman in the red and yellow of Amity- I assume they are his parents. The colors of my old faction stand out garishly amongst all the black clothing. I spot a woman in a blue suit, and realize that she must be one of Spencer's relatives. A woman with three young children, all dressed in black and white, walk past me, looking around eagerly. They all have the same square jaw and long neck as Nate, and I assume that they are his mother and siblings.

I wait about thirty minutes before succumbing to the admission that my family isn't coming. I turn to leave the Pit when I spot Dante entering at the far end. He is walking next to a woman with sandy brown hair who I can't see clearly. They are both looking through the crowd; searching… then Dante's eyes fall on me. He turns quickly to the woman beside him, pointing in my direction. She steps in front of him.

The sight of the red and yellow tie-dyed dress that Annette is wearing almost brings tears to my eyes. She turns to say something to Dante, and then strides towards me with a huge smile on her face. I want to laugh and cry and hug her and jump up and down. Instead, we share a brief embrace and whisper each other's names.

"Goodness, Lorraine, you look so different! I almost didn't recognize you! Thank goodness for your friend. I may have never known you if he hadn't pointed you out," Annette is her usual cheerful, talkative self. I squeeze her hand, glancing around behind her. She follows my gaze, and finally understands who I'm looking for.

"Oh, Lorraine, I am so sorry. They couldn't come. It's been a hard summer, and we need as many people as we can get to dig trenches for new irrigation pipes," she explains apologetically. "They wanted to come, and they hoped you'd understand."

I force a smile. "I understand, of course." But if they needed as many people as they could get, then… "How did you get permission to come, if they need everyone for the new pipes?"

Annette's face brightens and her smile broadens, a knowing look in her eyes. "Well, let's just say that, at this stage, I am not to be doing any hard labor." And it dawns on me.

"Annette!" I exclaim, "you're going to have a baby?!"

She laughs and nods. I laugh with her, and give her another hug. Paul always wanted to be a father. I am happy for them both. She tells me when the baby is due, and how Paul and our parents reacted when they found out. Everyone is very excited by the sound of things.

She also asks me about my initiation. I tell her about how I was having trouble at the beginning: thanks to the insight and advice of one of my brilliant instructors, however, I was able to improve the areas where I was doing poorly, and earned a passing rank in the first stage. She gives me her encouragement, and promises to relay a full progress report to my parents and Paul.

All too soon, it's time for her to go. I walk with her to the end of the Pit where the Dauntless leaders will escort the visiting families back to the surface. I know that I may never see her again after this, but I must be brave. I fight the crushing feeling in my chest and force myself to smile as Annette disappears into the darkness beyond the mouth of the Pit. I turn away, and cast my eyes down to hide the tears that threaten to spill from them. I can't see where I'm going, and I nearly collide with several people before a hand grabs my arm and pulls me out of the throng. I'd know the feel of those fingers anywhere; they are Dante's.

I wipe my eyes hard with the back of my hand, hoping that he won't notice that I was about to cry, and look up at him. He is staring at me with an expression that I have never seen before. I get the feeling that even if he did see the tears, it wouldn't have mattered. The heaviness within me lifts a little as I look into his eyes. He says nothing, but very slowly he brings up one hand to the side of my head. He takes a single looping curl of my hair between his fingers and runs them through its length, lingering briefly at the end. The intensity of his expression unnerves me. And here I thought I was getting accustomed to those amazing eyes of his.

For several moments we just stand there in silence, eyes locked on each other's. Then he touches me softly on the shoulder, shifting his gaze from my eyes to the place where the skin of his fingertips contacts my own. His expression is almost reverent.

"Come with me," he murmurs, lifting his hand and turning away slowly. I follow him, a few paces behind. He is heading towards the Dauntless-born dorms, and I do not want to be seen leaving the Pit at his side. The hall is all but deserted, and in the shadows of a curve in the wall he stops and turns to me.

"Rain," he whispers, placing his hands lightly on my shoulders, "I don't want you to take this the wrong way, because I know what it sounds like. But please trust me when I say that it doesn't mean what you might think."

"Dante, if you are talking about training together, I already know it has to stop. I talked to Four last night. He explained it," I tell him. I see relief flooding his face, and his shoulders relax as he sighs.

"Thank you," he murmurs as he closes his eyes and tilts his head back. "I was worried you'd think that I didn't want to see you anymore. But I know that type of training won't help us in the second stage, and could even be a distraction. Also… I…"

"What is it?" I ask him. He hesitates, averting his eyes for a moment, then bringing them back. I see that he is looking at my dress, his eyes traveling up and down mu body. I swallow hard and take a step closer to him. "Hey, you can tell me anything, you know."

"I know," he sighs. "It's just the actual _saying_ it that I have problems with."

"Just say it. It's okay," I take another step.

"Okay," he breathes. "It's about distraction. You are one. To me. But in the best way possible."

I feel a frown crease my brow. I'm not sure I know what he's trying to say.

"How so?" I ask.

"Well, remember that first night we talked by the Chasm?" I nod. "The rip in your combat suit. I kept looking at it, but it wasn't just the damaged fabric I was seeing. I was seeing you, the person in the suit. And I started thinking about the suit on you, and about the other clothes I've seen you in."

"That's mostly been combat suits," I point out. A lopsided smile crosses his face, and he looks away again.

"I also remember the clothes you wore at the Choosing Ceremony. I like you better in black, but I do like the style of the Amity clothes you came here in. I told you how I helped Dale with the design of the suits, right? Well, a couple weeks ago I designed something else. A different kind of suit, and your old clothes were a part of it… but with Dauntless colors."

He pauses again, as if waiting for me to say something.

"Well, I think I might like to see what you designed sometime," I tell him, feeling a little giddy that he would use me as his inspiration for a design. I am very close to him now; only a few inches separate us.

"You already have," he whispers, eyes still averted.

"Have I?" I ask playfully. He nods. His gaze returns to my eyes, as fiery and intense as I've ever seen it.

"You're wearing it."

Suddenly I feel like my heart is about to explode from my chest.


	11. Chapter 11

I am frozen in place, the emotions running through me threatening to make me collapse. Elation, trepidation, respect, pride, disbelief, adoration, and anxiety all jumble together in a mess I can only describe as shock. This is the very last thing I expected to hear from Dante. I can't even speak.

Dante claims that he often says nothing when he can't find the right words. This is different, because I genuinely believe that there are no words. Suddenly, I want desperately to be alone with him, so I can put my arms around him and let him feel this thunder in my chest that he's caused, and hope he'll understand what it means. But that's impossible right now. I stand there in front of him, staring into his eyes. I can't speak. He just looks at me the same way that he has been for the last several minutes, like he's seeing me for the first time.

"You…" my voice comes out a squeak from my constricted throat. I try to relax, and start again. "You made this dress? How? When? I just bought it in the shop by the tattoo parlor today…"

"I started the design in my head on Choosing Day. When it was done, I gave the design to Dale. He gave it to Clara. Clara runs the shop by the tattoo parlor. So she made it, not me," he reaches out and caresses the gathered fabric on my shoulder. "But I did design it around you. I just… never imagined that you'd pick it out on your own." It occurs to me that he is as awestruck by seeing me in this dress, as I am to learn that he designed it with me in mind.

"Dante," I whisper, "this is… I don't even know what to say. 'Amazing' doesn't even begin to cover it. When I bought it, I thought it was incredibly beautiful. And now…" My heart is pounding, my ears burning, and I feel like I am going to laugh and cry at the same time. He just continues to stare at me. Suddenly he steps forward and grabs my wrist with one hand.

"Come with me," he says softly. He leads me down the hallway, away from the Pit, away from the dorms, past the training rooms. The corridor darkens as we proceed farther along, and Dante slows his pace. He slides his fingers down my wrist to my hand and weaves his fingers into my own.

"Where are we going?" I ask presently.

"Somewhere where no one else will be tonight," he replies. I feel a twinge of anxiety when he says this; I'm not sure what his expectations are at this point, and I am not sure that being alone in an unfamiliar place with him is a good idea. But I follow him because I want to trust him.

We emerge onto a room that seems familiar, and when my eyes adjust to the darkness I see the net in the center. This is the entrance to Dauntless Headquarters that we used in Choosing Day, when Dante was the first jumper and I was the thirteenth. He is right about us being alone. There is not a soul in sight, and we passed no one in the corridors leading to this place. We both know that there are guards high above us on the roof above the hole, but here at the bottom it's only us.

We walk up to the edge of the net and he releases my hand. He pulls down one side of the net with one hand, then in one swift motion he wraps his free arm around my waist, lifts me up, turns me around, and deposits me on the edge of the net, seated facing him. He releases his grip and boosts himself onto the edge beside me, moving with an easy grace. The entire process takes less than five seconds, and I suddenly become aware of just how strong Dante actually is. He lifted me like a leaf, then pulled himself onto the net like we was doing something that required no more effort than turning a knob and opening a door.

We sit silently on the edge of the net for a few moments before Dante falls back, bringing up his legs and rolling into the center of the net. I watch him as he sprawls on his back with his hands cradling his head. He looks over at me, extends one hand in my direction, and gestures for me to join him. I am far less graceful than he, but I manage to crawl to his side. He wraps his arm around my shoulders and pulls me down beside him. Our faces are inches apart

"Look up," he whispers. I do look up, and I gasp at the sight above me. Through the hole in the ceiling, I see a sky filled with millions of stars. I have not seen the night sky since I left Amity, and I've forgotten how beautiful it is. Dante pulls me close, and I lay my head on his shoulder.

"I missed seeing them," I whisper, hoping he will understand what I mean.

"I thought you might," he murmurs, kissing the side of my head. He knows, of course. Dante, who designed a dress based on the style of my Amity clothes but in Dauntless colors, who envisioned the most beautiful garment I've ever worn; of course he would understand that I missed seeing the stars at night. Having spent his whole life in Dauntless Headquarters, he would know the best place to view them. And on this night, he brought me here to see them because… because…

I turn my face to his, and he kisses me slowly. I close my eyes. I feel like I am going to melt into him. I reach one hand up and touch his chest, over his heart. I can feel it beating, strong and fast beneath my fingertips. I feel his breath against my cheek, and the softness of his lips against mine. When we break apart, I shift to my back and gaze up at the stars. I can't remember a more perfect night in my life.

"Can I tell you something, Dante?" I ask. We are both looking up at the sky.

"Sure," he whispers. I swallow hard.

"I think I'm going to be very happy here," I say simply. I don't want to admit more than that right now, even though there is so much more that I want to say.

"Can I tell _you_ something now?" he asks, surprising me.

"Of course," I encourage him.

"You're beautiful."

I feel my breath catch in my throat, and my heart does a somersault in my chest. I almost gasp.

"No one's ever called me that before. I've always thought I looked so…plain," I cringe a little as my old nickname passes my lips.

"I see why people might think that," he admits. "But they're not seeing what I see. They're not seeing you. When I look at you, I see… life. Vibrant, animated, emotional, and not afraid. I've never known anyone who looks and acts as alive as you do. And I think it's beautiful. I saw it the very first time I saw you, at the Choosing Ceremony, as soon as your blood hit those coals."

"Can I tell you something else?" I ask.

"You don't have to ask."

"This dress... it's amazing. The minute I saw it I knew I had to have it. When I tried it on, I thought it was the most beautiful thing I'd ever worn. But you… when you told me that you had designed it, _that _made it more than beautiful," I pause. "It's very special. The nicest thing anyone has ever done for me."

He smiles.

"I didn't do it to be nice. I did it because I can't get you off my mind." This time I do gasp. I can't believe that Dante, shy and withdrawn Dante, is admitting this to me.

"I can't say I mind being on it," I tell him. He doesn't reply; just wraps both arms around me and pulls me closer to his side. We lay on the net side by side for a long time, looking up at the stars. Sometimes we talk; sometimes we are quiet. I find that I am growing accustomed to Dante's silences and actually becoming comfortable with them. I am just happy to be in his presence on this night.

After what must be hours, he sits up and tells me that we should get back to our dorms. Even though we don't have training or a curfew for the next few days, the other initiates and our trainers will note our absence. We climb off the net and slip back into the darkness of the corridor to the Pit. I leave Dante at the entrance to his dorm. There are several people walking past, so we can't risk more than a verbal good-night. I watch him disappear behind the door, and retreat to my dorms at the other end of the Pit. Everyone is in bed when I arrive; only the light just inside the door is on. I flip the switch to "off" and make my way quietly towards my bed.

"Rain?" I hear someone whisper ahead of me as I climb beneath the covers.

"Yeah," I whisper back.

"Are you okay? You were gone a long time. We didn't see you at dinner." It's Spencer.

"Sorry, Spencer," I whisper. "I had to talk to somebody about something. It took longer than I thought."

"It's okay. I just wanted to make sure you were okay. Well… good night."

"Good night, Spencer."

Even though he's whispering, I hear something in his words that makes me uneasy. Spencer has never expressed concern over me missing meals before. Maybe he just wanted to talk to me, I think, and suddenly I feel horrible. I promised him that I would be there for him if he ever needed to talk, and tonight I abandoned that promise without so much as a second thought. I decide to talk to him at breakfast tomorrow, and to apologize for not keeping my word.


	12. Chapter 12

I awaken the next morning at around the same time that we were roused for training during Stage One. I suppose I've become accustomed to it. I realize that I slept in my new dress last night. Glancing around the room, I see that I am the only one awake; the rest of my dorm mates are still asleep. I hurriedly change into a warm-up suit, then fold my dress carefully and place it in the footlocker under my bed. Having skipped dinner last night after eating only a light lunch, I am now absolutely famished. I start for the door alone, but then I remember my promise. I tiptoe over to Spencer's bunk and gently shake his shoulder. His eyes open slowly, bleary with sleep.

"Morning, Spence," I whisper. He smiles. His disheveled blond hair sticks up in every direction. "I'm going for breakfast. Want to come?"

He nods, and peels back the covers. He sleeps in just his warm-up shorts. I turn away modestly, but I can't help but notice the developing definition in his torso and arms. My ears warm up. I walk back to my bed and fuss with my pillow and pretend to be smoothing wrinkles in the blankets while Spencer gets dressed in the corner.

"Ready?" he asks quietly.

"Sure," I say casually, depositing the pillow on my bed.

We walk to the Pit, neither of us speaking. The silence is different than the silences that Dante and I share, which have become comfortable; a way of just enjoying the simple state of being in each other's company. Spencer is different. His silence has an aura that reminds me of the way I felt when I first started spending time with Dante, like there was always something that someone wanted to say but either we didn't know how, we didn't think it was the right place, had assumptions of expectations, or some other awkwardness that kept us from speaking.

Spencer and I take our seats across from each other, sitting on either side of a heaping platter of pancakes and sausage. His face brightens at the sight of the breakfast fare.

"Ooh, pancakes! I love pancakes!" he exclaims, and proceeds to devour half a dozen of them, along with a large quantity of the sausage links. Presently he looks across me at the table. He is trying to be brave and carry on, I can see, but I can also see the emptiness deep in his blue eyes.

"How did Visiting Day go for you?" he asks. "I saw some people here from Amity, but I couldn't tell if they were related to you."

"It was probably Joseph's family who you saw," I answer. "Only my brother's wife came to see me. There is a big irrigation project in my family's sector, so they needed as many people to work as they could get. Annette is expecting a baby, so she doesn't have to do the hard labor projects now and that's why she was able to visit me."

"Wow, how exciting," Spencer says, smiling kindly. "How old is your brother? Is this their first baby?"

"He's three years older than I am. I think he and Annette have been in love forever. And yes, this is their first baby. It's weird to think that I'll be an aunt, but that I'll probably never see my niece or nephew," I reply. That's the one downside of _Faction Before Blood_, as we all say when we have transferred factions and left our families behind.

"You could, you know," Spencer drops his voice, taking on a conspiring tone.

"Oh really?" I humor him. "How?"

"Well, you know that the Dauntless guard the fence, right?" Of course I do; I nod. "Well, there's another line of perimeter guards ho are also Dauntless. There haven't been many of them up until now, but in the last few months, Dauntless leadership have been increasing their numbers. They're called the Perimeter Guard, and they guard what's called the Point of No Return. It's a boundary that's a couple of miles past the outer Amity farms. It's basically a wasteland, but they are the first line of defense if anything threatens the city. They are there to alert the Amity and the fence guard if something happens. Think about it: you could see your family, and you would be acting as your little niece or nephew's defender. All you have to do is make it through Stage Two with a high enough ranking."

I have stopped eating. I am staring at Spencer with wide eyes and my mouth hanging open. I close it quickly when I realize that I have a half-chewed mouthful of pancake in it. I chew rapidly and swallow.

"Spence, that's brilliant! I never knew about the Perimeter Guard. And I never really thought about what job I wanted in Dauntless after initiation. Wow, that really gives me something to look forward to. Thank you," I say. He smiles, but his eyes are still empty.

"Can I ask how Visiting Day went for you?" It's like testing the water with my toe before stepping in. Spencer is quiet for a moment, staring at the space over my head.

"It was easier than I thought," he says slowly. "Our… my mother came to see me. She hadn't been told about Leah. I had to do it. It was really hard not to get emotional about it, but I couldn't; not with Eric standing right behind me the whole time. Luckily, Mom is a tough person and she pointed out a few strengths that Leah lacked. Strengths that I _do_ have."

"Eric," I reply, my voice filled with contempt. "I really do not like that guy. He just… rubs me the wrong way."

"Oh, he's not so bad. He's incredibly strong and brave. Having him there helped me understand how I should deal with loss as the Dauntless do. You know who I really don't like here is Four. I think he's a coward. He finished first in his initiation class last year, apparently way ahead of the others. They offered him a leadership position, but he declined. It just seems to me that he's shirking his responsibilities to the faction." Spencer certainly isn't shy about voicing his opinion on the matter. I never thought of Four as being a coward for turning down the leadership position; just humble. I think he's good at what he does, but I'm not so sure he would make a good representative to an entire faction on a political level. But Spencer is entitled to his opinion, so I don't argue.

After breakfast, we wander aimlessly around the compound, eventually finding ourselves at the entrance to a tunnel where the train tracks lead underground. We perch on an old, dilapidated bench on the platform of what must have once been a train station. The trains don't stop here anymore, and we watch several go by in both directions; Dauntless members jumping on and off near the platform as they go about their lives in the city aboveground and here in the Pit. Through our conversation it becomes apparent that Spencer has been very curious about the other transfers and what life was like as a minor in other factions, before we all came to join Dauntless. I tell him a little about farming life, avoiding details that I think might bore anyone who didn't grow up in Amity. I do tell him about the time we had to plow the fields with the horses because the tractor needed to be repaired. I also tell him about the baby chicks that climbed all over my arms and legs when I was little. He asks me a lot about my life before the day I took my aptitude test, but only offers a little information about his own. I get the feeling that he's trying to distract himself from the pain of the loss of Leah, who was a part of his life every single day up until two days ago, and if I can help make it any easier by talking about other things then I am happy to talk to him for hours.

It crosses my mind on several occasions how very different Dante and Spencer are. Spencer is of a very average height with short blond hair; Dante is remarkably tall and has long, dark brown hair. Spencer seems to be an endless fountain of verbal exchanges, whereas Dante and I spend most of our time together in silence. But the most markedly different thing about them is their eyes. Dante's are a rich brown that seem like they are aflame with life. Spencer's are a medium blue that I'm sure would look very nice if only they were not completely devoid of emotion.

Talking for hours is exactly what Spencer and I end up doing. In the middle of our conversation, I feel a sudden pinching sensation in my midsection and realize that it must be close to lunchtime.

"Hey, are you hungry? Should we go get some lunch?" Spencer asks, as though he's read my thoughts.

"Starving," I reply with a smile.

We return to the Pit and the lunch crowd is in full force. We manage to find a handful of empty seats at a table with a few of the other initiates and take our seats beside them. Among them is Erica, who has apparently been looking for me today. I introduce her to Spencer.

"We've been walking around the complex all morning," Spencer explains to Erica. "Rain has been regaling me with details on the incredibly interesting life of a minor on an Amity farm."

I smack him on the shoulder playfully. "Don't tease, Spence! You're the one who asked," I scold. He grabs his shoulder where I hit him in mock agony.

"I wasn't teasing! I really do think it's interesting. Very different from Erudite, that's for sure," Spencer defends. A few of the other Dauntless-born initiates join us, leaving only the seat to my left open. They join our conversation, which turns to our thoughts on Stage One of initiation, and what we are predicting for Stage Two. I finish eating and I am focusing on Joseph, who sits across the table and down several seats from me, when someone slides into the empty seat beside me. I somehow know before I even turn my head that it's Dante. I glance at him, but he pointedly looks at his plate, setting about with deliberate focus on preparing his meal. All the others' eyes are on Joseph as he tells us about what he speculates will be our challenges in Stage Two, so I risk a few words.

"Thank you for last night," I murmur. For a moment, Dante doesn't say anything.

"I should be thanking you," he says quietly.

"Doing anything tonight?"

"Only if you'll come with me."

"You don't even have to ask. Where and when?"

"Chasm, after dinner."

I nod. Dante goes back to his meal and I return my focus to Joseph and the others. I see Erica look away from me quickly. Of course she noticed Dante and I; for a moment I'm nervous about what she will do. She glances at me a moment later, offering a wink and a small smile, and I know she won't give us away. I smile back at her. I grip the edge of my seat with both hands and lean forward to give me a better view of Joseph. Under the table, I feel Dante's fingers brush the back of my left hand. I deftly turn my hand palm-up, and he slides his fingers between mine. I stay focused on the conversation, and he carries on eating. Every once in a while, Dante slides his thumb across the back of my hand, sending rippling sensations across my skin that make it very hard to pretend that nothing is going on between us.


	13. Chapter 13

Dante releases my hand slowly as he finishes his lunch, withdrawing his own inch by inch from beneath the table. I can't decide if he's doing this because he doesn't want to draw attention by suddenly releasing my hand, or if he is just loath to break this small physical connection that we've secretly shared during our meal. For me, it's a little of both. Just before he slips away completely, he gives my wrist a gentle squeeze with his fingertips. Then he's gone; rising from the table in one fluid movement and walking away without a word to anyone. I am acutely aware of his retreating presence, to the point that I miss something Erica has asked.

"Hello? Earth to Rain?" she chirps, snapping her fingers in front of my face. I look up quickly. Half the table has emptied, and I never even noticed. Erica and two other Dauntless-born initiates, along with Spencer and I, are all that remain. I recognize the neon-green haired boy as Vince, who asked me about Dante saving me on the roof during my very first meal in the Pit. The other is a girl with whom I have never spoken.

"Sorry," I say, hoping my blush doesn't show. "I was… listening to something else. What did you say?"

A knowing look flickers across Erica's face, long enough for only me to notice it. "I asked you if you are coming to the Pit at our normal curfew time. We're all going to meet up and hang out tonight because we don't have to be in the dorms until lights out. It's only what we've been talking about for the last fifteen minutes."

"Sorry," I apologize again. "Yeah, I'm in."

"Great," Spencer replies, rising from his seat on my right and gesturing for me to follow. "We'll see you guys tonight."

"Hold on a sec, Spence," Erica stops him. "I'm coming with you two. I want to show you guys something."

"What are you showing them, Erica?" Vince interjects.

"Nothing that you'd be interested in. I'm just going to show them around the upper areas of the Pit, that's all," she retorts. "Seeing as they're both transfers, I doubt they've ever gone up there other than with Harrison, and he's an awful tour guide."

"Fair enough," Vince concedes grudgingly. He returns to the remnants of his lunch. Erica, Spencer, and I are done, so we rise and head toward the entrance to the Pit that leads past the Chasm and up to the area where I visited Carla and Dale the day before.

Erica guides us along the steep, rail-less switchback paths that lead up the walls of the Pit, explaining the purpose of the different areas as we reach them. We pass the home she shared with her parents until Choosing Day, and she shows us where the apartments are that are being prepared for the current initiates.

"A bunch of the previous occupants have started families, so these single units are getting to be too crowded for them. They're moving to bigger ones in the higher floors," she explains, then describes the rotational process of Dauntless housing. "Initiates of the same year usually end up in the same housing blocks for the first few years. At first they all have similar needs and a small, basic apartment suits them fine. But as they get older, start to settle into occupations and relationships, their lifestyles change and their housing needs begin to vary. That's usually when most of them relocate to other areas; and those areas are vacated by the older Dauntless members who choose to… well, retire, sort of." Erica trails off awkwardly.

I think about what it must be like to be an aging member of Dauntless. I think about what it would mean to the faction, to its younger members, to begin to age and lose my strength and to slowly lose my ability to live independently. I understand what Erica means by "retire".

Spencer, however, seems to miss it.

"What do they do when they retire?" He asks. Erica faces him and opens her mouth. She seems unwilling to explain it. She closes it again and tucks the scarlet lock of her hair behind her ear. She clears her throat and takes a deep breath.

"Spencer," I interrupt, "have you ever seen an elderly member of Dauntless?"

He pauses for a moment, considering my question. I can see it coming together in his head. His expression collapses.

"I see," he says curtly. Erica releases her breath. Neither of us wanted to say the word "factionless" in Spencer's presence, especially so soon after what happened to Leah.

Erica continues with the tour, but the atmosphere in our trio has become notably stressed. Laughs feel forced, and Erica has lost the bounce in her step. We finish our rounds at a large, red metal door that Erica calls the Computer Lab, where the majority of Dauntless video surveillance of the city takes place. She informs us that there are usually several jobs there that are available to any initiate, regardless of where they finish in the rankings at the conclusion of Stage Two, as long as they are within the top ten. I get the feeling that she is saying this for my benefit, seeing as I finished Stage One barely above the passing line.

When we return to the Pit, Erica says that she wants to get a shower before dinner. I'm a bit disappointed that I don't get a chance to talk to her alone; I wanted to know if Dante had been invited to tonight's gathering, but she's gone before I have a chance to say anything. After she leaves, I tell Spencer that I want to pay a visit to the tattoo parlor. He has shown no interest in getting something permanently placed on his body other than what he was born with so he leaves me to it, telling me he'll catch up with me at dinner. The moment he steps away, my mind immediately returns to Dante and our interaction at lunch, and I feel light as a feather. I find myself nearly skipping on my way to the tattoo parlor. I imagine what a sight that must be: an initiate skipping her way to get tattooed. I force myself back to a dignified walk, but I can't help grinning.

It seems that everyone and their uncle has had the same idea as me tonight, because the tattoo parlor is unbelievably crowded. Tori and the other artists are swamped, and from the looks of things they will be for hours to come. Conceding the fact that my new tattoo idea will have to wait, I wander to the clothing store next door where I bought that wonderful, wonderful dress that has become probably my most prized possession.

The store is the polar opposite from the tattoo parlor: there is not a single customer inside. I start shuffling through the clothes on a rack near the door. The sound of someone moving boxes around in the back reaches my ears. I move farther into the store, exploring the footwear rack. Presently I hear footsteps heading my way, and I am not surprised when Carla emerges from the back room of the shop.

"Well, hello Rain," she greets me. "Good to see you again. Looking for anything special tonight?"

I wasn't originally, but I suddenly think about the initiate gathering planned for later tonight. I have nothing to wear other than my combat suits, my warm-ups, pajamas, and my dress- none of which seem right for this.

"Yeah… I guess I am. But I need your help: I'm pretty clueless when it comes to knowing what's in style. And there's this thing tonight. Some of the initiates are getting together to celebrate our being allowed out after curfew, and, well, I have nothing to wear… and I don't have many points left after I bought a dress here last night."

Carla raises an eyebrow. "You bought a dress last night, and you claim that you have nothing to wear?"

I feel my ears heat up again. "Yeah, well, the dress was for Visiting Day. It's a little too… special for tonight, I think," I reply.

"Hold on a sec. Did you buy the dress that I _think_ you bought?" She slips out from behind the counter and heads right for the rack where I found the dress.

"Sort of silky-gauzy, sleeveless, gathered shoulders, fitted waist, flaring knee-length skirt?" I ask, hoping I'll save her the trouble of searching. She looks up at me.

"That's the one," she replies. I don't miss the hesitation that follows, as though she's debating saying more about the dress.

"If you're going to ask if I know who made the dress, or who designed it, the answer is 'yes'. And that's why…" I stop myself short, not wanting to say too much. A knowing look replaces the one of uncertainty in Carla's face.

"Say no more, Rain. I understand. Wow, I bet he was flattered." She winks at me, and my jaw drops. For keeping this thing a secret, it seems that there are an awful lot of people who suspect that there's something between Dante and myself. "You're in luck, girl. I have some shirts and a pair of jeans that should do the trick. And I'll tell you what: I'll lend them to you. I know how much that dress cost you, and I don't want you running out of points. Looks bad on an initiate, you know? So you can borrow these; just bring them back tomorrow."

"Please tell me if any of these were designed by… anyone I should know about," I ask as she retrieves the pile of black textiles. She laughs.

"No, these are standard pattern garments. No special designers," she assures me.

Carla lays out three shirts and the black jeans in front of me. I try on each of the shirts and she gives me her opinion on each. At last I choose the one with the fitted bodice and loose half-sleeves. The back of the shirt is slashed diagonally across both shoulder blades, revealing my tattoo. Carla gives me a thumbs-up, reminding me again that I have to return the outfit tomorrow. I stammer over words of gratitude that are woefully inadequate, which she just waves off and shoos me out the door so I won't be late for dinner.

_Or late for Dante_, I think.

Dinner is the usual clamoring, noisy, rambunctious activity that it always is in Dauntless. I sit beside Erica and across from Spencer; Dante is nowhere to be seen. Spencer and Nate are deep in conversation when I arrive, which frees me up to talk to Erica for most of the meal. I am glad to see that she has returned to her usual, boisterous self. We talk about some of the places she showed us earlier, and I ask her about the underground entrance where Spencer and I spent the morning. Her eyes grow big and round when I mention the dilapidated platform.

"Come with me after dinner, girl," she says in a low voice so no one else can hear. "We have to talk."

"I can't," I object, "I have… something I have to take care of."

"No, we _need to talk. _ Believe me," she squeezes my arm for emphasis.

"Okay, it'll have to be quick," I tell her.

"It won't take long. But you do need to know something about that platform," she murmurs.

"I need to ask you one thing after dinner, too," I confide. She nods, and we return our attention to our fellow initiates.

After our meal has been consumed, everyone heads in his or her own direction. Erica and I linger in the Pit behind the rest. Once they are all out of earshot, she turns to me with a serious expression.

"Did Spencer take you to that platform this morning?" She asks.

"No, not really. We were just wandering and sort of stumbled across it," I answer, trying to remember just how we ended up there.

"Well, you need to know that, that platform is pretty significant to anyone who's not there to catch a train," she informs me. "That's where the last murder in the city took place, before Dauntless took full control of civilian safety and policing. I don't know all the details, but I do know that it was a Dauntless initiate who was killed. A girl. She was lying behind the bench when they found her."

"Are you serious?" A chill runs down my spine. "Do you think… do you think that Spencer knows about that?"

"It's hard to say," she says, frowning at the ground in contemplation. "It's mostly the Dauntless-born who know the story. But he came from Erudite, and they have books with all kinds of information in them. He could have read about it."

"That's just weird," I shiver. "But honestly, I don't think he knows. We just talked about light stuff today. Mostly he asked me about my old faction," I assure her. "He just seemed curious about my childhood, I guess."

"Well, okay," Erica looks back up at me. "Just be careful. Now, what did you want to ask me?"

I quickly put aside the story about the platform. I glance around to make sure no one is within earshot.

"Did anyone invite Dante to hang out tonight?" I whisper.

Erica first frowns, then grins.

"No one ever invites Dante to do anything anymore, for fear of getting our asses kicked in one way or another," she chuckles.

"Well, do you think they'd mind if I invited him?"

"Are you willing to expose…?" she gasps.

"No! I mean, just as friends. And really, that's all we really are at this point. Well, special friends… it's complicated. But about tonight, I want to invite him."

"Sure," she shrugs, still grinning. "But you'll both have to live with the gossip."

"I know, and that's why I'm not even sure that he'll agree to it."

"Well, even if he doesn't, you're expected to show up. Good luck, Rain. See you in a couple hours!" She gives me a quick hug and then strides away back toward her dorm.

I take a deep breath and begin walking toward the Chasm.


	14. Chapter 14

The railing at the edge of the Chasm is almost as crowded as the tattoo parlor was earlier. It takes me a moment to find Dante, and when I do I see that he's standing with Dameon and a young woman whom I don't know. He looks like he's deep in a conversation with them, but the expression in his eyes is light; almost amused. Dameon seems very animated, doing a lot of talking with his hands while maintaining one arm draped around the girl's shoulders. I don't want to interrupt, so I find an open spot on the railing a good distance away from their little group. I settle against it, knowing I might be here a while before I can approach Dante. I position myself so he has a full view of me over Dameon's right shoulder. Presently, I see his eyes flick to mine. He holds my gaze for only a split second, but the communication in them is clear:

_Wait._

I will wait. I will wait all night for him if I have to.

The crowd around me thins after a while, drifting away from the Chasm alone, in pairs, or in small groups. The din of all the voices dies down, and I can make out pieces of the conversations around me. Eventually Dameon and his companion break away from the rail, leaving Dante alone. After retreating a few paces, the girl turns back and calls to him.

"You sure you don't want to come with us?"

"Yeah, I'm sure. You two have fun," he shoves his hands in his pockets.

"Suit yourself. But Dante… you need to get out more. You need to start spending time with people other than that dull batch of initiates you're cooped up with. Especially if you want to…" she replies.

"Yeah, I get it," he cuts her off mid-sentence. He sounds annoyed, and he glares at the girl. She shrugs, turns back to Dameon, throws an arm around his waist, and together they stride away. Dante continues to glare at their retreating backs. After they disappear, he shifts his eyes back to me. I haven't moved from my place on the rail. When his eyes meet mine, his shoulders relax and his chin rises. He gives a small jerk of his head as the corners of his mouth lift ever so slightly.

"_Follow me," _he mouths to me, then retreats in the opposite direction taken by Dameon and his companion. He leads me down a corridor I've never explored before, and I learn that it leads past the kitchens. I hear the clamor of cleanup from the evening meal as we pass several pairs of swinging doors. Blue lights dimly light the corridor, and once we get past the kitchens, I see that it is almost completely deserted. Dante slows his pace, dropping back to walk beside me when the coast is clear.

"Hi," I say softly, smiling as we draw even. He doesn't reply. I glance up at him. He is looking straight ahead, a furrow between his eyebrows. I have come to recognize this as his look of contemplation. He usually wears it when he is trying to find the right way to tell me something or ask me something.

"What is it?" I ask as we round a bend in the corridor. He stops when our pathway straightens out again. He takes me gently by the wrist and pulls me with him as he leans his back against the wall. He lifts my hand and slowly entwines his fingers with my own. He sighs softly, looking at our hands.

"I heard from a reliable source," he murmurs, "that you spent all day in the company of another guy." He raises his eyes to mine, and I see a new expression in them; an expression I can't quite pin down. Is it concern? Fear? Anger?

No, I realize suddenly. It's jealousy.

"You mean Spencer?" I ask, almost unable to believe that Dante would be jealous of _that_.

"The Erudite transfer."

"Dante, he chose Dauntless, and he passed Stage One. Please don't mention his old faction. You know it bothers me when you mention mine."

"Sorry," he says, but he doesn't sound sorry. "It's an old habit."

"It's okay," I reply, but I don't think I sound very forgiving, either. "But to answer your question: yes, I spent most of the day with Spencer. He was in a bad way after his twin sister failed Stage One, so I did what any decent person would do."

"And what exactly is that?" His frown deepens.

"I told him that if he wanted to talk, I'd be there for him, of course" I tell him honestly. "Which, this morning, he did. I just feel bad for him, Dante. He's lost everything, and I just wanted him to know that he has friends here, that's all."

"That's all?" His tone sounds almost condescending. "Rain, he finished higher than you in the rankings. You need to be careful, or you could end up where his sister did."

"I know that, Dante," I snap. I'm beginning to feel annoyed. Plus, I don't need to be reminded by the guy who finished in first that I barely passed. "I really don't see what that has to do with me spending time talking to Spencer for a day, especially when I didn't have any other plans."

He releases my hand and places both of his on my shoulders, bending his head down to look me closely in the eye. "You really don't know the effect you have on people, do you?"

"What are you talking about?"

"The way you just _are. _You are more alive than anyone else I know, to the point that it's contagious. People around you can't help but feel good around you. You're like a magnet for positive energy. And right now, Spencer is grasping for something to give his life meaning, and you presented yourself to him as the most likely candidate to fill that void. But I've seen this happen before to people, and I've seen a lot of them become obsessed. I've seen that void swallow people… relationships… I just don't want to see that happen to you. So I'm just saying, please be careful."

My defensive stance deflates in my chest as I realize what he's saying. I can't blame him for feeling the way he does. I raise my hands and wrap them around his forearms, running my fingers lightly along them. I close my eyes and wait for the heat of my annoyance to cool.

"I'm sorry," I whisper at last. "You're right; I had no idea that people saw me like that. And I promise to be careful with Spencer. I'm the last person who wants to see him end up any more of an emotional wreck than he already is, or to take anyone else down with him."

Dante leans into me, moving his hands from my shoulders to my face, cupping my cheeks in his palms. I open my eyes as he leans his face into mine, pressing our foreheads together.

"Thank you," he whispers, then kisses me between the eyebrows.

"Speaking of the other initiates," I murmur, his lips still pressed to my forehead, "there's a get-together tonight to celebrate not having to observe curfew. I was wondering if you'd like to come?"

He draws back slowly, studying my face as though he's weighing the desire to spend time with me at a social outing against the folly of being seen in a social setting together. He keeps his hands cupped around my face.

"You do know that there will be talk later," he says knowingly. "They'll know it was you who invited me- because let's face it, who else would? And they'll suspect why."

"How do you know?"

"Well, the transfers might not know, but the Dauntless-born will," he explains. "The initiates do this every year on the second night of the break between the two stages. It's sort of a tradition. My brothers told me about it. Anyone can invite other initiates, but when a boy invites just one girl, or a girl invites just one boy, it's usually a sign that one or the other- or both- are interested in each other. They do it every year, even though they know their instructors will be at the party and will see who shows up with whom. The smart ones don't show up together."

I consider this for a moment before replying. My answer comes simply.

"Dante, if I was one of the smart ones, I'd be in Erudite," I say firmly. "As it is, I'm in Dauntless. And I am not afraid of being seen with you at a party. I'm not afraid of what people will think, or what they'll say. And I think we're smart enough to not let our…whatever it is… interfere with our rankings in Stage Two."

"'Whatever it is?'" Dante repeats, lightly mocking me. I shrug. I don't have an answer. He wraps his arms slowly around me, pulling me into his embrace. He bends down, nuzzling his face into the hollow between my neck and my shoulder. He draws me closer than he's ever done before, until there is no space left between us at all. I feel like I could disappear into him. I feel his lips moving against my collarbone, but if he is speaking, it's too softly for me to hear. I slide my arms around his midsection and pull him to me, pressing my face against the side of his neck. The warmth of his skin suddenly strikes me. It's as though the fire behind his eyes has spread to his skin, but not as dangerous- just inviting, life-giving warmth that caresses me wherever I touch it. We stand in the dim corridor for many minutes, just holding each other.

Eventually we break apart and draw away from the embrace. Dante inhales deeply, looking intently into my eyes.

"I'll go with you," he says softly, "and of anyone has any snide comments regarding that, they can say them to our faces."

I chuckle. "They say them to mine, anyway. They aren't very afraid of me."

"Then they can say them to mine. And as far as no one being afraid of you, I have a suggestion that might fix that." He starts walking back the way we came, motioning for me to walk at his side.

"And what would that be?" I ask, falling into step beside him. I don't think there's anything that can make the other initiates fear the cheerful, friendly girl from Amity who barely finished with a passing rank in Stage One.

"Well, Four said we couldn't use the training rooms for after-hours sessions anymore, right?"

"Right."

"He didn't say we couldn't train in the morning, did he? The training rooms won't be assigned to the initiates during Stage Two; anyone can use them. Lots of Dauntless members use them regularly, to keep fit and hone their skills. There's no rule that says we can't do the same, as long as it's not at a time when the rooms are closed or when it would interfere with our regular initiate training."

"So… in the morning, before breakfast?" I ask, catching on as he speaks.

A conspiring smile slides across his face, and he narrows his eyes as he gazes ahead of us.

"Exactly. But be ready to get tough; we're taking this up a notch. We need to transform you into a warrior."

I take a deep breath, thinking about what that will mean. I nod, once, decisively.

"You're on. Now, let's get to this party."


	15. Chapter 15

Entering the Pit, Dante and I refrain form any gratuitous physical contact. We both know that this would not only be unwise, but I also think that it would just look tacky. I lead the way with Dante trailing a couple paces behind, and I can sense his tension even though I can't see him behind me. Dante has never been at ease in social situations, and he may never fully be, but I count it a milestone that he agreed to come with me at all tonight.

I'm surprised to find that we are among the last to arrive at the Pit. Among the transfers, Spencer is the only one who I don't see as we enter. There are only seven of the Dauntless-born initiates already in the Pit; Dante makes the eighth, meaning two are missing.

Even Four and Eric are already present. Eric is having an involved conversation with Vince, so Four is the first one to spot us. He watches me emerge into the Pit from the shadowy corridor, and raises an eyebrow when Dante walks in directly behind me. Others notice his expression of interest and heads begin to turn in our direction as we approach the group. I feel a twinge in my stomach when I realize that the majority of this group is now focused on Dante and me. I try to act casual, to act brave. One of the Dauntless-born initiates- a solid, muscular girl with long blond dreadlocks who is dressed in a black cami and cargo pants- rolls her eyes and mutters something to the boy standing at her side. I vaguely remember both of them from Choosing Day, but I can't remember their names.

"Are you kidding me?" she snorts as I walk past her.

I stop and turn back to her. Dante pauses behind me, silent.

"Problem?" I ask, looking her dead in the face. When I address her, I feel none of the optimistic friendliness that I'd been taught childhood to always use when meeting a person for the first time.

She meets and holds my gaze. Her eyes are pale blue-grey, like ice. She wavers after a minute, and shakes her head.

"You got guts, Transfer," she says before turning away and retreating to another pair of Dauntless-born initiates whose names have slipped my mind. At least she didn't address me by using the name of my old faction.

Four approaches us slowly.

"So… this is what happens when I leave two initiates alone to train together?" He says quietly so only we cane hear. His voice is completely neutral, but with Four I assume that everything is serious.

"Not exactly…" I begin, but he cuts me off.

"Fine. Whatever. Just keep yourselves under control. I'll be watching," it is clearly not a request, but I catch a glint in his eye as he turns away. It looks surprisingly like satisfaction. I turn back to Dante, giving him a quizzical look. A small smile is playing at the corners of his mouth. I know that he saw that look too, and is thinking the same thing: Four has somehow known about us for a long time but he trusted us to not screw up the trust he put in us, and we didn't disappoint him.

We walk to the far end of the group, to where Erica is talking to another Dauntless-born girl. They are also staring at us, but Erica is grinning hugely. She introduces me to Jacqueline, who is probably the tallest, strongest sixteen-year-old girl I have ever met in my life. She is almost as tall as Dante. I recognize her name from the ranking board: she finished third; only one place ahead of Erica. It's apparent that there is a competitive rivalry between Dante and Jacqueline, although she seems more focused on it than he does. She and Erica also seem to have known each other for a long time, though they go out of their way to include me in their conversations. Dante seems at ease just listening in.

A few minutes pass before the rest of the initiates show up. Two Dauntless-born boys and Spencer arrive within seconds of each other from opposite ends of the Pit. As soon as they see that the whole group is assembled, Eric and Four call for our attention.

"Initiates!" Eric bellows. We all fall silent after a few seconds. He continues: "We have a special surprise for you tonight. Traditionally, on this night, Dauntless initiates gather in the Pit for a party to celebrate their successful completion of Stage One. But this year, we are changing the location of this party. We have been granted permission by our leaders- myself included- to build a bonfire on the roof of the building across from the one we jumped off of at the beginning of your initiation. And there is another surprise for all of you when you get up there, so let's go!"

As one, we turn for the metal staircase at the back of the Pit. Eric insists on taking the lead, leaving Four to take up the rear, and we race up the sixteen flights of stairs- through the Pit, up through the abandoned buildings above- to the top of the aforementioned building. It is much larger in surface area than the one we jumped from, and in its center is a mountain of scrap wood.

"A bonfire!" Vince whoops when he sees it. He rushes toward the pile, jumping and flailing his arms in delight. When we have all arrived on the rooftop, Eric and Four gather us before the pile of wood.

"Initiates," Eric calls for our attention again, "please bear in mind that this is a party in celebration of you and your achievements. Four and I are here in celebration of our roles as your mentors and instructors. But keep in mind that that is whom we remain. You are not yet full members of our faction, and as such we are mainly here to act as your chaperones. We expect you to conduct yourselves accordingly. That being said, also bear in mind that you have chosen Dauntless as your faction, and nobody knows how to party like Dauntless."

"In other words, have fun but don't do anything stupid," Erica mutters, leaning toward my ear.

"Four, light it up!" At Eric's cue, Four produces a book of matches from his pocket, lights one, and tosses it onto the pile of wood. There must be some sort of fuel on the wood, because the entire mountain is engulfed in orange flames within a minute. People are whooping and cheering, dancing around the fire as though in some insane tribal ritual. Dante, Erica, and I stand off to one side, watching their antics and laughing heartily. I don't think I've ever seen Dante smile for so long before. And his laugh it is low and deep, and reminds me of a sunrise: pure, golden, illuminating.

Reece, one of the Dauntless-born boys, walks up behind us carrying a rucksack. He opens it and offers it to us; it is filled with unmarked silver cans with pull-tabs on the lids- some sort of beverage, which I suspect is alcoholic. I hesitate, but Dante and Erica each grab one. Reece offers the bag to me again, but I shake my head. I've never had alcohol in my life, and I don't want to find out how I'll react to it while I'm a dozen stories above the ground in the middle of the night. I glance at Eric and Four, who both see what Reese is doing. They watch him, but they do nothing. It's not breaking any rules, drinking while we are still technically considered minors, but it's not always looked upon with favor. Some of the factions- like Abnegation- shun alcohol altogether. Then again, they shun everything that isn't an absolute necessity for survival.

As he consumes the contents of his can I notice that Dante is becoming more relaxed, and even a bit talkative with the other initiates. At one point, several of the Dauntless-born approach us, greeting Erica with familiarity and Dante with a sort of reserved politeness. The girl with the blonde dreadlocks is among them. I have never formally met any of them, and I am surprised when Dante is the one who introduces me.

"Rain, this is Jayce, Henry, Torien, and Matthew," he indicates each of the boys, "and this is Seneta." He finishes with the girl with the dreadlocks. There is a strange tension in Dante's voice, and Seneta looks me up and down before looking me in the eye. Her ice-colored eyes hold mine with a steely coldness. I detect not an ounce of friendliness in her demeanor. They guys all say something in the way of a greeting, but Seneta stays silent.

"Guys, this is Rain," Dante steps to my side, placing one hand on my shoulder. I tear my eyes from Seneta's. "She's the one I pulled from the edge of the roof," he concluders, looking down at me and smiling.

"Hi everyone," I reply, nodding to the group. "It's good to finally meet you all." Dante's fingers absently grasp a stray lock of my hair and smooth it away from my neck. That one thing, that tiny gesture, sets off a bonfire of its own. No one says a word, but I see several sets of eyes widen and jaws drop. I glance around, and see that this group isn't the only one watching.

Everyone is.

I see Eric and Four standing side by side, not far from where we are. They both have their arms crossed, and Four elbows Eric in the ribs before holding one hand out, palm up, as though he's expecting Eric to place something in it. Four looks smug; Eric looks disgruntled, and I have the distinct feeling that Eric lost a wager of some sort. Eric waves Four's hand away.

Seneta sets her jaw and narrows her eyes before turning and practically stomping to the other side of the bonfire. She passes Spencer on her way, and it is his expression that catches me most off-guard.

His blue eyes are locked on me, and they look emptier than ever. His lips are pressed together, setting his mouth in a harsh line. He looks like someone just kicked him for no reason. Then I see his eyes shift to Dante and Spencer's expression changes like the pile of wood when Four dropped the match on it. For a second it smolders, then a few sparks ignite, and suddenly they are ablaze with something wild and dangerous. The look he shoots Dante is filled with loathing.

It's not hard to see what path this is going to lead down. I know I am going to have to talk to Spencer soon, to explain things to him, to assure him that he and I are still friends, to let him now that Dante and I revealing our involvement affects nothing between us and he and I can still have our long talks and time together. It's bad enough that Dante is feeling jealous about the time I spend with Spencer; I don't need a rivalry starting between these two and, frankly, neither do they.

But tonight is not the time to try to discuss this. Drama at this party will only ruin the mood for everyone. I just smile as reassuringly as I can at Spencer and turn back to Dante and my new acquaintances. After a while, I lose track of Erica. I am not sure when she left our little group, but it takes me a while to locate her. I finally spot her sitting in the shadows at the edge of the roof beside Spencer. They are sitting close together, apart from the rest of the party, apparently deep in a conversation. They seem to have gotten over their awkwardness from the conversation near the housing blocks earlier. I am hoping that Erica noticed what I did, and is reassuring Spencer that this thing between Dante and I changes nothing between Spencer and I.

Seeming to sense my gaze upon him, Spencer glances up. The light from the fire only barely reaches his face, but I can't mistake the emptiness in his eyes as they meet mine, or the seething animosity that creeps into them when they flick to Dante at my side.


	16. Chapter 16

Erica and Spencer spend most of their night at the edge of the roof talking. Every now and again, I catch the eye of one of them and give them an encouraging nod or smile. I like the fact that my friends are becoming friends with each other. Dante and I keep mostly to ourselves, standing close to each other and just talking quietly. Some of the others occasionally include us in their conversations or activities, but for the most part they leave us to each other. Several hours later, as the fire is dwindling down, Eric and Four are engaged in a game of chicken involving holding their palms over the coals at its base. A handful of the initiates join them. Four wisely weeds out the more inebriated ones and bars them from participating. Spencer joins the group of participants.

It ends up that there are six: besides Four, Eric, and Spencer; Jayce, Torien, and Seneta hold their open hands, palms-down, over the brilliantly glowing coals. One by one they are eliminated as they pull their hands away from the searing heat. I am shocked when Four is the fourth to retract his hand, and only two participants remain: Spencer and Eric. The two fix their eyes on each other, the light of the diminished flames flickering in across their features, accentuating the harsh lines associated with extreme acts of concentration and willpower. I am standing behind Eric at this point, and I can clearly see Spencer's face. His eyes are fiercely narrowed, his jaw clenched, and I can hear his breath rushing in and out through his flared nostrils. A long, low grunt escapes Eric's throat, but he doesn't move. The crowd falls into a tense yet awed silence.

Suddenly, a piece of wood in the fire pops loudly, sending a shower of sparks in Spencer's direction. A number of them land on the long sleeve of the sweater he's wearing and almost instantly it catches fire. Eric reacts first, launching himself forward and pulling Spencer away from the fire. Four is there a split second later, shedding his leather jacket lightning-fast and wrapping it around Spencer's arm to smother the flames. Jacqueline runs up to them, offering the large steel bottle she's been carrying with her all night.

"Water," she explains, and Four takes the bottle with his free hand. He removes the jacket and tears away the scorched fabric of Spencer's sweater. Beneath it, Spencer's skin is an angry red, and I see blisters forming in some places. I can only imagine what his and Eric's palms look like. Spencer's breath hisses rapidly in and out between his teeth and his face is contorted with pain, but he makes no other sound. Eric and Four quickly decide that he needs to get to the infirmary to treat his burns. Eric directs Four to take Spencer back down while he puts out the remainder of the bonfire and sees to it that the rest of us leave the rooftop.

Dante and I wait until all the rest of the initiates have headed down the staircase before leaving. I glance over my shoulder while I'm on the top step, and I see Eric pouring a slow stream of the remaining water from Jacqueline's bottle onto the palm he held over the coals. A grimace twists his face; making his many piercings look even more formidably intimidating. I fall back into step beside Dante. We descend in silence, the only sound being the ringing of our footfalls on the metal mesh beneath our booted feet. When we reach the subterranean ground floor near the Pit, Dante pauses and looks at me. He gives a small shake of his head.

"What is it?" I ask. It's the first that either of us has spoken since Spencer's arm caught on fire.

"Eric lost, you know," he says in that low, contemplative voice of his.

"What are you talking about? He was just reacting to Spencer's sleeve going up in flames," I reply.

"That's what it looked like, yeah. But don't forget that Eric is extremely competitive. He knows full well that, regardless of the reason, he was the first to pull his hand away from the fire," he explains.

I say nothing. I wonder if that bodes poorly for Spencer. I hope it doesn't; it was a freak accident that couldn't have been helped. But Dante is right: Eric will see it as a lost competition. At the same time, Dante is wrong about one thing: Eric isn't just extremely competitive; he is also a poor sport. I worry about Spencer.

"Do you think they'd let us go see him?" I wonder aloud. "Spencer, I mean. Do you think they'd let us go see him in the infirmary?"

"Probably," Dante replies, "but I don't know about this late. If it's important to you, though, we can ask."

_If it's important to you._

His words send a stabbing sensation through my chest and my breath catches in my throat. Suddenly I don't care what the others will think, don't care what they'll say. I throw myself into Dante and wrap my arms around him, burying my face in his chest. Everything that everyone assumed about him is so very, very wrong. Dante is not aloof, he is not self-centered, he does not have a short temper, and he is not scary.

Dante is thoughtful.

Dante is kind.

Dante cares about those who are close to him.

Dante will make sacrifices of his own happiness to make sure that others are happy.

I feel his arms fold around me, his chin resting on the top of my head, holding me tightly. I want to laugh and cry at the same time, and my chest feels like it's going to burst. I turn my head so my ear is pressed against his chest, just over his heart.

"Thank you," I whisper simply. It feels woefully inadequate.

Dante steps back, placing his hands on my shoulders. He smiles down at me, then turns toward the Pit. He takes me by the hand and leads me down another corridor that I have not explored. It intersects with a familiar corridor at one point: the adjacent one leads to the training rooms that the Dauntless-born used during Stage One of our training. It makes sense to me then that at the far end of this corridor is the infirmary.

We are asked to wait outside for a few minutes while the nurse on duty checks on Spencer. She returns a moment later and admits us.

"He's resting, but awake," she tells us. "His burn wasn't as bad as it could have been, but we're keeping him overnight for observation and pain management. You can go in and see him."

Dante hesitates just inside the door. I give his hand a squeeze.

"I'll go in first and see how he is," I murmur. Dante nods and releases my hand.

I enter the room and the first thing that strikes me is its size. It is very long with a row of cots against each wall; one cot placed every dozen feet or so. Each cot has a curtain between it and the next, which can be closed to offer each bed's occupant some privacy. Some of the cots farther down the room are occupied, but Spencer is near the entry, in an area that he has to himself. He is facing down the row when I enter so he does not see me until I say his name. His head turns toward me, and he smiles when I step into the light beside his bed.

"Rain," he whispers hoarsely, "you came." He stretches a hand out to me. His arm is bandaged from wrist to bicep. I take his hand gingerly and hold it lightly. His fingers wrap around mine and I can't help but feel their fragility. The bones and tendons in the back of his hands are trembling a little, and he grips a little too hard for comfort. His hands are very different than Dante's, whose are always strong and steady, yet gentle when they hold mine.

"Of course I came," I reassure him. "You're my friend and I was worried about you."

His eyes held the faintest hint of a glimmer when he first saw me, but it fades after I speak. It occurs to me that I am the only one who has come to visit him.

"But I'm not the only one who's worried," I assure him quickly. "In fact, I brought along someone else who is."

"Erica?" Spencer's eyes widen hopefully.

"No, but I'm sure she'll come soon, too," I tell him, then call to Dante: "He's okay! Come on in."

Dante walks in with his thumbs hooked through his belt loops, his eyes holding an amiable expression that's almost alien to his features. He walks directly up to Spencer's bed.

"Hey, Spencer," he greets him. Spencer says nothing; he releases my hand, almost shoving it away. I look back at Spencer in shock. He pulls his bandaged arm under the sheet quickly. For several seconds he just stares at Dante, and I see that seething distaste creep back into his eyes.

"Go. Away." He says sharply, then turns his back to us. He pulls the sheet up to his ear with his other hand- the one that he'd held over the coals- and it too is heavily bandaged. I start to protest, but Dante places a restraining hand on my shoulder. He shakes his head at me in silence.

"I'll come back when you've had a chance to rest," I tell Spencer. He grunts and refuses to look at us. Dante urges me toward the exit, and I follow him out into the corridor and back towards the Pit.

This is the first time I have been out in the compound after the city's mandatory lights-out policy. The only thing illuminating the corridors are the dim greenish-blue lights that run off solar energy, collected by cells on the roof high above during daylight hours. They make Dauntless Headquarters look alien and unfamiliar. Dante seems to know his way around well enough, even in this unusual lighting, so I just follow his lead as he escorts me back toward the Pit.

"I don't understand," I say, thinking aloud as we walk, "I thought Spencer was actually in a pretty good mood when I went in there. He seemed genuinely happy that someone had come to see him. It seemed like he would have welcomed more people, too. I don't know why he reacted that way when you came in."

Dante walks on for a few more seconds, then stops abruptly and turns to face me.

"You really don't know?" He asks, his tone sounds chastising.

"No," I say honestly, but a bit more sharply than I intended. Dante shakes his head and brushes my cheek with his fingertips.

"Rain," he whispers, closing his eyes while his fingertips linger on my cheek, "you have got to start becoming aware of the effect that someone as consistently positive as you has on someone like Spencer. Or…" he trails off.

He opens his eyes. He looks afraid.

"Or on someone like me," he finishes.

And suddenly it all makes sense to me. When I first met Dante, he told me, it was my lust for life that attracted him because he'd never had anything like that in his own life. It is that same positive energy that has drawn Spencer to me because Spencer has lost everything that was important to him. He took for granted that he and Leah would always be together simply because they always had been, and when he lost her he automatically attached himself to the first thing that represented a replacement to the things he'd lost. And that first thing was me.

I can't even speak. I don't know what to say. I just stand there and hold Dante's gaze. After some time, he breaks the spell by leaning forward and brushing his lips to my forehead.

"Come on," he murmurs. "I'll walk you back to your dorm."

I nod, and let him take my hand and lead me through the near darkness across the Pit and down the opposite corridor.

At the dorm room door, Dante turns to me and takes me lightly into his arms. His hands trace my spine up from the small of my back, halting when his fingertips reach the nape of my neck. He cradles my whole head in his hands, tilting it back and looking into my eyes.

"Thank you," he whispers, "for inviting me to go with you tonight."

"I should be thanking you," I whisper back, "for going with me to see Spencer, even though you probably knew how he'd react. I'm sorry about him, and sorry that I didn't listen to you when you tried to warn me about his behavior earlier…"

"Shh," he hushes me with a finger pressed to my lips. "You are right about him, too: he does need friends. And if that's what you want to be to him, I'm all for it. But he just has to be made to understand that there is a limit to that. You could never replace his sister, although he seems desperate to believe that."

"I don't know how to make him understand that, though. I thought he already did. Clearly I was wrong."

"I'm sure you'll find a way. You have a knack for finding a way of… accomplishing difficult tasks."

"What is that supposed to mean?" I ask.

"Just this."

Dante moves so quickly I am caught completely off guard. Suddenly my feet aren't touching the ground anymore, and I am spinning around and around. Dante has lifted me up, one arm wrapped around my back just below my shoulders and one behind my knees. He cradles me against his chest as he spins. I suppress my laughter and bury my face in the warmth of his chest. At length he stops spinning and I look up into his face. His hair has come loose entirely from its usual ponytail, and it frames his face in feather-soft tendrils. I brush a few of them back, tucking them behind his ear, and I wrap my arms around his neck and pull my face to his. His lips part to meet mine. I feel my own tremble as I press them to his.

He holds me in his arms for the duration of the kiss. It is not one of our usual soft, tender kisses like the ones we shared as we lay on the net looking up at the stars together. This one is deeper, more solid, and more certain. When we finally break apart, we both gasp. Dante touches his forehead to mine, holding me close to his chest. He closes his eyes, and whispers against my lips.

Ten minutes later, I am in bed with my blankets drawn up to my chin. I am on my back, staring at the blackness that is the ceiling above me. I think about Dante, probably back at his dorm and in his own bed by now, and wonder if he's thinking about me as I'm thinking of him. His whispered words play themselves over and over again in my head.

"Rain brings life, even where I thought there was none. And that is why I love you."


	17. Chapter 17

I wake from dreams filled with Dante to realize that today is my last free day before we start Stage Two of our initiation. I vow to make the absolute most of it. Today I am one of the last to rise, and I feel like I don't so much climb from my bed as float from it. I feel like the steam that rises from the surface of the marsh in early summer mornings back on my family's farm: feather-light, drifting and dancing on the stirrings of a morning breeze.

I eat breakfast, late and alone, before deciding to swing by the infirmary to check with the nurses on Spencer's condition. Despite his reaction to Dante last night, I am determined to remain Spencer's friend. I know he's hurting, and that he needs people who will be there for him. I fully understand that, in Spencer's mind, my relationship with Dante presents a threat to Spencer's and mine. What I need to make clear to Spencer is that he and I _are_ friends, but that does not mean that I cannot have other interests and pursuits outside of that friendship. I figure the best way for me to get him to understand that is to put it into action. And no better time to start that than this morning.

I am surprised to learn when I arrive at the infirmary that Spencer is already gone. The nurse on duty- not the same one that was on last night- informs me that he was cleared for discharge and left with one of the other initiates this morning. From the description she gives me, it sounds like that other initiate is Erica. That seems a little unusual to me, so I set out to find them both.

I comb the Pit, the tattoo parlor, the clothing stores; even the lower levels of the housing blocks, but hours later I have found no trace of them. Then again, the compound is vast, and I am only one person- a person who still doesn't know her way around very well, at that. For a moment I contemplate going to see Dante, but immediately think better of it because this is the last day he has to spend with his family before initiation starts up again.

I resolve myself to staying in one place and hoping that Erica and Spencer show up. I remember that the training rooms are now open to everyone, so for the sake of the good memories I associate with it, I decide to visit the one in which Dante and I held our nighttime training sessions. I have some time to kill before lunch, and lord knows I need to stay sharp if I am going to keep up with the others when Stage Two starts tomorrow. I have no idea what this stage, the mental training, holds for us, but I know that physical activity can't be a bad way to prepare.

I am surprised at how crowded it is in the training room is this morning. I see no familiar faces, but I do notice that almost everyone is training in pairs or groups. I feel more than a little out of place in here by myself, but no one seems to take notice of me so I am not discouraged from my decision to do a little training. I see that someone has chalked a wide, oval-shaped lane onto the open space on the floor at the back of the massive room. I am already a good runner, but it seems to be the only workout station that's not occupied, so I step into the lane and break into an easy run. As I make the circuit, I keep an eye on the other stations to see if one of them opens. I am not paying attention to what's going on in my immediate vicinity, so I startle a little when another runner suddenly falls in stride beside me. I look up into a familiar face: Jacqueline.

"Hey," she says, a small but friendly smile on her face, "mind if I join you?"

"No, it's fine," I reply.

"Thanks."

We run a couple of laps in silence before I speak again. "So, you know Erica and Dante?"

"Erica, yes," she says through a snort; "Dante, not so much. I guess I knew him as well as anyone else here, before you showed up."

"He really didn't have many friends, did he?" I ask.

"_Many_? He had _one_; that's it. And she didn't last long," Jacqueline's tone is very matter-of-fact: not at all catty or gossipy.

"You mean Jessie," I say. It comes out more flatly than I intended.

"What, he told you about her?" She glances over at me sharply.

"No, not exactly," I explain. "He kind of… mentioned her. But Erica told me about her before Dante and I started talking.

"You two 'talking' is all anyone on the Dauntless-born side talks about, you know," she confides. "At least when Dante isn't around to hear it."

"I don't get it," I admit. "He really is a nice guy. I don't understand why people react like this. If they would just try to get to know him…"

"Rain, believe me, we've all tried," she huffs, "but he was so shy as a kid. You'd walk up to him and say hi, and you could just see him shut down. He gave nothing back to anyone socially, so we all just stopped trying. Then when we started getting older, he started growing his hair and working out, and he just became this physical ideal of what Dauntless should be. Of course, that happened after Jessie had come and gone, so if anything he became even less approachable than before."

"What actually happened to Jessie?" I blurt out.

"No one really knows," Jacqueline's voice softens. "Or if someone does, they aren't saying anything about it. There are rumors, though…"

"What rumors?" I demand. This girl was the most significant person in Dante's life aside from his family, and I want to know about her. Am I jealous? Maybe a little, but more than that I want to know what she was like and why she disappeared.

Jacqueline slows her pace, looking contemplatively at me. We come to a stop, and she steps close to me, bending down and placing her hands on her knees. She pretends to be catching her breath. I follow her lead, our heads are only inches apart when she begins to whisper.

"Jessie and Dante were thirteen when she suddenly appeared, and then disappeared a few months later," she begins. "No one knew where she came from, but it was rumored that her parents had committed some crime against their faction, so Jessie was brought into Dauntless for protection. We all assumed she was from Candor because even though she was quiet and introverted most of the time, she would say the most outrageous stuff when she did speak. Some of the faction leaders came to school one day to talk to her, and the next day she was just gone and we never saw her again."

I hesitate, staring at Jacqueline as this all sinks in.

"Thank you for telling me," I nod.

"Just keep that to yourself. I wouldn't tell Dante that you know about it if I was you," she advises me. "He might tell you one day, but even then, don't let on that you ever knew to begin with." I nod again.

"Thanks, Rain," she smiles again, then glances across the room. "Everyone's heading out for lunch. Want to keep going, or do you want to get something to eat?"

"I never pass up a meal," I confess.

Twenty minutes later, showered and changed, Jacqueline and I reconvene in the Pit. Some of the other initiates are there, but still no sign of Erica, Spencer, or Dante. We take a seat with the others, and I find myself next to Seneta. As soon as she notices me, she tosses her food back onto her plate, picks it up, and walks around to the far end of the table. She bangs her plate back down onto the table, then sulks into her meal.

"What's with her?" I ask Jacqueline, who is seated across from me.

"She's had a thing for Dante since as long as I can remember," she replies, "She's been trying to win him over for years, but he's never shut anyone out harder. Then you show up, and he immediately gravitates to you- a stranger instead of someone he's been around most of his life. Needless to say, she pretty much hates you."

"Well, it's not like I did anything to deliberately hurt her," I say defensively. "She should just get over it and move on." It sounds meaner than I intended, so I just shrug and go back to my stew, acting like I think it's no big deal.

I could never be in Candor. I lie too easily; especially to myself.

We finish our lunches and there's still no sign of Erica, Spencer or Dante. I am beginning to get anxious about them, especially Erica. She is like me in that she never misses a meal. I am hoping that she is just spending the day with her family as I presume Dante is. I remember when she showed Spencer and me where her parents' house was, and when she told me that Dante lived near her. I am contemplating dropping by for a visit when I hear a familiar laugh from a few tables away. I look over and spot Dameon, the source of the laugh, and all four of his brothers. Dante is sitting with his back to me, and I am surprised to see that he is wearing his hair down today. I excuse myself from the table, thanking Jacqueline for spending time with me. She just grins at me and tells me we should do it again sometime. I agree, and move towards Dante and his brothers. He doesn't see me, but his brothers do. They all fall silent, watching me approach with different expressions of amusement and piqued interest. Dante doesn't miss them, and turns to face me. As soon as our eyes meet, I see his face light up like the sun. I feel like someone has set a fire in my chest. He rises from his seat and takes my hand. Without a word to his brothers, he ushers me out of the Pit and away from the lunch crowd. Behind us, I hear his brothers call their farewells to our backs.

"Have fun, you two! Behave!" That would be Dale.

"Don't listen to him, Dante! Go get 'em!" Dameon, of course. I feel my ears heat up.

"Dante, where are we going?" I ask apprehensively.

He glances over at me, and it occurs to me that he is holding my hand in public: actually walking across the Pit in the thick of the lunch rush, _holding my hand_. I can't help myself; I smile broadly.

"You'll see," is all he says as he guides me toward the metal switchback stairs that lead aboveground.


	18. Chapter 18

Dante guides me up the staircase that leads to the roof above the entrance to the compound. The climb takes much longer now than it did last night when we were all running. This afternoon we seem to be in no hurry. His fingers are laced into mine as we climb, and as soon as we reach the second landing above the noise and hustle of the Pit, Dante draws me to his side and releases my hand, sliding his hand across my back, his long fingers cupping around the curve of my ribcage. My heart does a backflip and starts hammering in my chest. I lean into his side and drape an arm around his back, my fingertips coming to rest on the point of his hipbone. The noise from the Pit is still drifting up the staircase, but I think I hear Dante sigh.

We reach the third landing.

"Do you remember," he asks softly, "the night that I let you read my journal?"

"Of course," I reply, my voice a murmur that's barely louder than a whisper.

"I was going to bring it again today. But I decided that you shouldn't read anything else in it." He pauses and I glance up at him. He is not looking at me, but stares instead at the stairs rising above our heads. "I think you deserve to hear directly from me what I've written in there about you."

I swallow hard. He told me last night that he loved me. What else does he want to say?

I nod.

"That means a lot to me. Thank you." I mean what I say, but I wish I had better words to tell him just how much it means that he would tell me that. How much it means that he would hold my hand in public; how much it means that, when I am with him, I feel like I am a completely different person than the one who was called Plain Lorraine most of her life.

We keep climbing.

We reach the landing that opens into the chamber where the net is set up to catch the jumpers from the roof above. Usually there are only two guards on patrol on the rooftop and two near the net below, but today there are a dozen people standing near the net. They are gathered in a tight group, apparently discussing something intently. Dante and I are both instantly curious, and we deviate from our course up the stairs. Simultaneously our hands drop away from each other and we walk toward the group. As we approach, the light from the hole in the ceiling above illuminates their faces. Most I don't recognize, but I do spot Max, Eric, Four, and Harrison among them. It is Harrison who is talking as we reach them.

"…apparently didn't show up this morning, and she never misses an appointment. The boy hasn't been back to the dorms since he was admitted to the infirmary last night. None of his possessions are missing…" Harrison's words become intelligible as we close the distance.

"Have the other initiates been questioned?" Eric cuts in.

"I didn't want to take any steps regarding that until I reported this to you," Harrison answers him. Eric is about to speak again when Four catches sight of Dante and I and makes a sharp noise in this throat.

I don't have to ask; I already know that they're talking about Spencer and Erica.

The others in the group turn to look at us, then look expectantly at Four. He clears his throat.

"Two of this year's initiates: Rain and Dante. Rain is a transfer. I expect most of you know who Dante is," he tells the others, introducing us. "I think we should enlist their help if they are willing to give it."

"Agreed," comes the immediate answer from one of the members at the back of the room. I peer into the dim light and recognize the speaker as Daemon, Dante's brother.

"I'll allow it strictly on an informatory basis." The next speaker is Max, and his voice is measured and even, as though he is taking the topic of involving Dante and I in their activity with reserved care. I am about to protest when Dante speaks up, surprising everyone in the room.

"Assuming you're talking about Erica and Spencer, I'd like to offer my help in any way that I can," he offers. "Rain?"

"Yes, of course," I concede, knowing that an initiate's insistence on being more involved in something that leadership is barely willing to allow is futile.

"Thank you," Max nods. "If you don't mind, we'd like to ask you a few questions about the two missing initiates after a briefing on the situation." Dante and I both agree.

"This morning at 08:00, Spencer DeVore was discharged from the infirmary, where he'd been kept overnight for observation of burns to his left arm and right hand. His injuries were not considered serious, thus he was released. He was seen departing the infirmary not long after with another initiate, Erica Martin. The two were seen having breakfast in the Pit together by several witnesses; they left just before 09:00 and have not been seen since. Erica was due for a tattoo appointment at 10:30, but she never showed. Transfer initiates Nicole Blythe and Nate Michelson claim to have been in the dorm that they share with Spencer for the majority of the day, and have reported that they have not seen either of them."

"Have you two been in the compound all day?" Harrison asks when Max concludes his speech. We both tell them that we have.

"Have you seen either Spencer or Erica today?" Harrison continues. Of course, we haven't.

"Tell us where you have been and who you were with," Max demands sharply. "You're not in any kind of trouble here, but it is imperative that we learn as much as we can about the whereabouts of these two."

Dante and I give them separate accounts of how we spent our mornings. He, as I suspected, was with his brothers and their father this morning. I, of course, was training with Jacqueline after spending about two hours looking for Erica and Spencer in every public place I knew.

After giving our accounts, the group reconvenes and begins discussing a course of action. While they are talking, Dante explains to me that his brother and the other members in similar dress who are assembled here are all Compound Security. It explains why Four is here; he usually works in surveillance.

Max is asking the security personnel to check out our stories via our witnesses. Dante has a witness among them: his brother Daemon, who immediately verifies his story. Another man is sent to find Jacqueline to verify mine, and to inquire with her as to any information about the two missing persons. Max then returns his attention to us.

"At this point, these two are just considered missing. While we cannot rule out defection from the faction, we don't think that's what we have here. We do know that the boy is somewhat emotionally unstable right now, but the girl has shown no signs of it or a desire to leave," Max pauses, and gives us a curt nod. "We thank you for your help. You are free to go; and we will inform you right away if…"

His instruction is cut off when a woman comes rushing into the room, snapping to attention when she reaches him.

"Sir, the Weapons Room has performed their daily inventory count and discovered one pistol missing. It was one of the models designated for use by the initiates for target practice," her words are sharp as knives in my ears, and fall like bricks in my stomach.

Dante seizes my wrist and turns me around, forcing me to walk away slowly. Max returns his attention to the security team and the other leaders. The room is becoming a frenzy of activity and raised voices; clearly the situation is now being escalated. It is everything I can do to walk calmly from the room with Dante.

As soon as we reach the landing on the stairs from which we originally entered the room, he pulls me away from the doorway and whirls to face me. His eyes are alight with something I've never seen in them before: alarm.

"Rain, where would they go? You know them better than anyone else here. Where would they go together?" Urgency causes his voice to tremble on the last word. I try to focus. Where would they go? And why did they take a gun?

"I… I…" I stammer. I can't think. This can't be happening, not in my lifetime, not to my friends. I want to run away, I want to hide, I want to wake up from this nightmare and be safe in my bed on my family's farm. I shake my head, feeling tears welling in the corners of my eyes. Erica and Spencer have to be safe, they just _have_ to be. They're probably on the roof, kicking around the ashes of the bonfire, or hiding in a place where they can be alone, like Dante and I have done so many times. They're _not _in trouble; they _cannot_ be in danger.

I just want this to stop.

"Rain," Dante gives my shoulders a light shake. I shake my head and stare at the floor.

"Rain!" he says again, voice rising slightly. He grabs my chin and forces me to look into his eyes. Tears spill from mine. He shakes his head. "No, Rain. Don't do this. You can't; listen to me. You chose Dauntless. You _chose _to be here. Think about why you made that choice."

I never really have before now. I chose Dauntless because the aptitude test told me that I should. But there's another reason, I know it, I just can't think of it right now. What was it? I remember something that Spencer once said:

"_Think about it: you could see your family, and you would be acting as your little niece or nephew's defender. All you have to do…"_

And in that instant I realize two things.

"I joined Dauntless to protect the people I love." I tell him, blinking away my tears, then I blurt out: "Dante, I know where they are!" I tell him about the morning that Spencer and I sat talking on the old platform.

"You _do_ know what happened there all those years ago, right?" He asks.

"Yes, but I didn't at the time. Erica told me later," I pause. "I didn't think that Spencer knew about that then, either. Maybe he did, or maybe he found out later. But I'm pretty sure he would find out."

Dante releases my shoulders, exhaling as though a weight is being pressed against his chest.

"Go. I have to tell Daemon; he'll get the rest of his team on it. You go there, _now_, and make sure they don't leave, or do anything stupid. Oh god, I hope…" he cups my face in his hands and places a firm kiss on my forehead before releasing me.

"Be brave," he whispers before turning away and racing back in Daemon's direction.

I will be brave. I must be brave.

Dante is right; he knows me better than I know myself. I shove the frightened child that threatened to overcome me just moments ago deeply away inside of me. I square my shoulders and run back down to the Pit…

I make two wrong turns before I remember how to get to the platform because I am following landmarks based on the meandering route that I took there the first time. When I do come upon it, I am surprised at how close it actually is to the training room in which I spent my morning with Jacqueline, and thus to the infirmary.

The platform is heavily shadowed by the angle of the afternoon sun behind the ruined buildings around it. I can't see to the far end clearly, but it looks deserted. A sudden pang passes through my midsection. Was I wrong?

"Erica?" I call out. "Spencer?" I begin to walk down the platform toward the bench at the far end. There are no trains in earshot, and no members of my faction approaching the tracks.

"Erica, are you here?" I call again. At the same instant, I spot movement in the deepest shadow at the far end of the platform beyond the bench. I freeze.

"Erica? Spencer?"

"It's me," Spencer answers. I breathe a sigh of relief.

"Spence, thank god! Are you're okay? We've been looking for you. Do you know where Erica is?" I gush, relieved that I have found at least one of my friends.

"Erica? Well… no. Not exactly." His voice sounds high and strained.

"What do you mean? Have you seen her today?" I start walking toward him quickly. He doesn't move.

"Seen her? Yes. She's been with me most of the day," he laughs. It is not a normal laugh; it is too high in pitch. It sets off an alarm in my head. I freeze, about fifteen feet from the bench.

"What are you talking about, Spence? Look, come out here and talk to me, will you? Everyone's been looking for you two. Even Max and Eric are worried!" I mean it to sound like a concerned friend, but I sound like I'm reprimanding him.

"Well luckily you found us before they did," he replies slowly, and I see him starting to walk toward me. "Or should I say, before _he _did."

"Spencer, you aren't making any sense. Will you please tell me what you mean?" My wariness of his behavior is trying to transform itself into fear. But I won't let it; I won't. I came to Dauntless to protect the people I love. Because _I am brave_.

Suddenly I hear the scuffling of many booted feet approaching from behind me, accompanied by several shouts. Spencer must hear them, too; he steps from the shadows.

He has a gun in his hand; a pistol just like the ones we used during Stage One of training. His eyes are ablaze with ice-blue fire. But it is not like the fire in Dante's eyes, which conveys ferocity for life. Spencer's eyes are filled with hate.

"Spence, you're scaring me," I say softly. But I force myself to take another step toward him. He smirks, and glances over the edge of the platform to the tracks. I follow his gaze.

Erica lies face up between the rails, her limbs and torso horrifically contorted and her eyes staring lifelessly to the sky. I don't even have to guess: it's clear that a train hit her. And I know that Spencer was the one who caused it.

I force my eyes back to his. Behind me the booted feet and shouts are drawing closer. They must be just around the corner.

"Why?" I ask, my eyes burning.

Spencer just shrugs as a disturbing grin spreads across his face as the sounds of the running feet round the corner.

"You gave me one day of hope, Rain!" Spencer screams. "_One day_, and it was all a _lie_! The happiness you made me feel, it was as faked as all your stupid Amity shit! You act like you want to be with me, like you want to help me get through losing Leah, and then you shun me as soon as another guy gives you the time of day! You gave me hope, then you pulled it out from under me, you lying bitch!"

Spencer raises his gun.

"Rain!" I hear Dante scream behind me. There is the sound of a scuffle; people shouting for Dante to stop, shouting for Spencer to put the gun down.

"Well I'm going to show you what that's like, Rain!" Spencer continues, screaming hysterically. "I will show you what it's like to lose everyone who is important to you, everyone you love… to lose _everything_!"

"Spencer, stop!" I scream as he aims his gun at me. I hear the sound of countless guns being drawn from holsters behind me. I hear the guards' feet start to move forward again.

I hear Dante break free of his restrainers and run…

Spencer fires. I scream and collapse. Dante stops running. I hear countless guns firing over my head. The sounds only last a few seconds, but they feel like an eternity.

I raise my head as the echoes of the gunfire fade away. I am unhurt. Ahead of me I see Spencer lying face down in a veritable lake of blood, still as stone. I sit up slowly and turn around. I am terrified of what I will see, but I turn.

Dante lies on his side about ten feet behind me. There is blood pooling around his shoulders and neck.


	19. Chapter 19

Erica is dead. Spencer is dead. My two closest friends… or at least I thought they were. Erica was, I'm sure of that. Spencer, for all my good intentions, for all my effort, was not. I have come to believe that he was beyond saving before I ever tried.

Spencer killed Erica.

They tell me later that he must have rendered her unconscious and pushed her onto the tracks, because the train conductor would have seen it happen and stopped- probably too late, but we would have known sooner- if Spencer had pushed her in front of the train upon its approach. If she had been unconscious on the tracks, the conductor may have never seen her.

Spencer killed Erica in a mad attempt to take from me what he himself had lost, so that I would know his pain. He killed her in a fit of jealousy over the friendship that she and I shared, and after learning that I had emotional ties to another boy, whom he also tried to take from me.

In that, he has not yet succeeded. Dante is still alive.

Three days have passed since the Dauntless Compound Security gunned down Spencer for shooting Dante with a stolen gun. Myself and the other surviving initiates should have begun Stage Two of our initiation two days ago, but in light of these events, we have been granted a delay.

Every night I sleep in my dorm, plagued by nightmares of Spencer trying to kill me, of Erica's meaningless death, and of Dante slipping away from me when I can't be with him. Each morning I return to his bedside, relieved that it hasn't happened yet.

I am allowed to visit him during the day, and I usually spend as much time at his side as I can. In the beginning I was there to help medically; it turns out that Dante and I have the same blood type and I volunteered myself for the transfusions that saved his life, or so the doctors have told me several times. They say I am the main reason that he is still with us.

But he's still in danger. Spencer shot him in the chest and although the bullet missed his heart it did clip his left lung, which subsequently collapsed. The doctors have had to re-inflate it twice. A day later, it collapsed again and he began bleeding internally. I was roused from my bed at three o'clock in the morning to donate another pint. He stabilized as he came out of the second surgery, but he has been heavily medicated ever since so most of the time he's asleep.

I go to him every morning anyway, as soon as he's allowed to have visitors. Dale, Derrick, and Daemon filter in and out to visit us and bring me meals, but none of them ever stay long. Sometimes they talk to me, but I have little to say in return. Most of the time I just hold Dante's hand and watch him sleep. I can tell when he wakes up because his breathing changes and his fingers tighten around my hand ever so slightly, but he never opens his eyes. Sometimes I talk to him but most of the time I just sit in silence, willing him to keep breathing. I am grateful that he acknowledges that I'm here, but I wish I could do more. If I was allowed to, I would stay with him overnight.

But as usual, tonight- the end of the third day- I am told by the nurse that it's time for me to leave. I have done my part. I have been strong for yet another day for Dante's sake. I am never hungry, yet I eat three full meals each day. I run laps in the morning before visiting hours to stay fit. I shower between running and breakfast. I could ask the doctors or nurses for something to help me sleep, to help with the nightmares, but it would taint my blood and what if Dante needs more? I could have just as easily shut down, stopped running, stopped eating, stopped caring about everything except the fact that Dante lies only semi-conscious in a hospital bed. But it is _because_ I care that I make myself do the things that seem the hardest now. I have to be strong enough for both of us, because right now he can't be.

Leaving the infirmary at night is sometimes the hardest part. The simple act of rising from the chair in which I spend most of my day and releasing Dante's hand takes all the courage I can muster. Walking out of the infirmary, down the corridor and across the Pit to my dorm is an act of sheer will.

Tonight I find that my fellow transfers have waited up for me. The heads of Nicole, Nate, and Joseph all turn in unison as I walk through the door. There is a sudden hush in the room that gives away the instant cessation of conversation as I enter. It is only momentary, but I notice it. Obviously I was the topic of their abruptly abandoned conversation.

"So, is he doing any better?" asks Nicole as I settle onto my bed. I shrug.

"It's hard to say," I tell her. "He's sedated most of the time, so I don't know. They say he's stabilized for now, but he's got a long way to go before he's healed."

"Well, I hope he starts improving soon. We all do." Joseph chimes in.

"How about you, Rain? How are you doing?" There is genuine concern in Nicole's voice.

"I'm managing. In all honesty, I can't say that I'm okay. I might not be okay for a long time. But I do what I have to, to get by. I'll keep going, because I _want_ it to be okay someday," I tell her.

She rises from her bed and walks over to mine. She sits down beside me and puts an arm around my shoulders. Joseph and Nate join us a moment later, and I find myself enfolded in the comforting embrace of all of my fellow transfers. It is a strange trait of human nature, the fact that tragedy can bring us closer together. I'd never really talked to Nicole before Spencer and Erica died and Dante was shot; and Nate and Joseph were pretty much just competition in my eyes. Over the last few days we have grown closer, and they have gone out of their way to show me genuine kindness. They have become, to me, what I was trying to be for Spencer. The difference is, I suppose, that I am not like Spencer.

"Rain," Nate says hesitantly from behind me, "we'd like to ask you something." The embrace breaks and I turn to face him.

"What is it?" I am suddenly very tired. Nate clears his throat.

"He had an idea, and we just wanted to run it by you," Nicole explains almost apologetically. "We'd like to ask if you think it would be okay for all of us to come see Dante tomorrow."

I am shocked. It's one thing that they would show concern for me; we've all been sleeping in the same room and training together since Choosing Day. But it's another thing entirely for them to express an interest in going to visit Dante, whom they know by reputation only. I am absolutely floored by their show of camaraderie and support.

"Well…yeah, I mean, of course. I mean, you don't have to ask me," I splutter over my words, trying to find a way to properly express my gratitude. "I am really… I… thank you. Really. It means a lot to me. To us."

"All right, then," Nicole says, smiling and squeezing my arm. "Tomorrow morning, after breakfast?"

"After breakfast," I agree.

"Okay," Nate agrees, smiling. "Well, everyone, shall we?"

They all nod, and rise from their various seats on my bed and return to their own. I am taken aback when, instead of settling into their beds in the other side of the dorm, they all collect their blankets and pillows and bring them over to the beds on my side of the room. In the beginning, it had been just Spencer, Leah, and I on this side- but of course, it has recently been only me. After they relocate their footlockers to underneath their new beds, I understand that this is something they premeditated while I was in the infirmary with Dante, another show of their support. I feel a smile spread across my face. It feels as glorious as the spring sun after a hard winter.

I sleep better that night knowing that people who care about me, my friends, surround me. I wake twice in the night, both after nightmares. The first was of Spencer raising his gun and lining up his sights on me. The second was of Erica lying at a grotesque angle on the tracks. At least I know, as I wake, that both times I was dreaming. It doesn't diminish the fact that both events actually occurred, but at least I'm not screaming when I wake this night. After the second dream, I lie awake for only a few minutes before drifting off to sleep again. It is morning when I next open my eyes, and Nate is gently shaking my shoulder.

"Breakfast time," he tells me with a small smile when I look up at him.

"Okay," I smile back. The others are already up and moving about, preparing for the day. I throw back my covers and sit in the edge of my bed as I brush and braid my hair. I pick out a clean set of warm-ups to wear for the day, and just after I've slipped into them, the door opens and Harrison and Four walk in. Nicole gives a small shriek of surprise and embarrassment; she is in the process of putting on her shirt as they enter. They ignore her.

"Initiates," Harrison addresses us, with Four snapping to attention at his side. "This is your notification that we will reconvene in 48 hours for Stage Two of your training. You have today and tomorrow to prepare yourselves. We understand that this extended break may present a setback to your progress and thus affect your results in Stage Two. This is why we are giving you ample notice to get yourselves back on track."

It may be my imagination, but it feels like Harrison's eyes come to rest on me longer than they do on anyone else. Even if that's not the case, I do understand that these words are mainly for my benefit. It's a Dauntless way of saying "we sympathize, but we have to keep going."

Our trainers depart, and all eyes turn to me.

"Are you going to be okay with that?" Nate asks, his tone serious.

"Well, I'm going to have to be, aren't I?" My voice is still crackly with sleep.

"No, I mean… what about Dante?" The volume in his voice drops. This is not lost on me; I know exactly what it means for Dante.

"He has 48 hours. A lot can change," I am trying to reassure myself as much as I'm trying to reassure Nate.

We walk out to the Pit together and seat ourselves at a table with the Dauntless-born initiates. With the exception of Seneta, they have all been kind to me about the whole situation, but they seem less affected by it as us transfers. I suppose things like this aren't that uncommon in Dauntless. We are all going to have to live with it.

After breakfast Nate, Nicole, Joseph and I head to the infirmary. We are greeted by one of the two usual morning nurses: Kylie, by name. Her eyes widen when I walk in the door, and her expression turns to one of utter surprise when the other three follow me. She ushers me aside and asks the others to wait while she speaks with me. She hurries me around the corner.

"Just you, first. So many at one time... it might be too much," she says. A tremble of terror ripples through my chest. Something has happened to Dante. I fear it is something terrible, something unspeakable.

We round the corner into the long room in which I first visited Spencer. Dante's bed is the third on the left side of the room. The curtain between the second and third beds is drawn. It has always, _always_ been open before. I try to swallow the lump in my throat. Kylie stops at the first bed and gestures me forward. I pass the first bed, then the second, and step past the curtain.

The fire in them has tapered to a soft glow, but Dante's eyes are as remarkable as ever. Maybe even more so now, because I haven't seen them open in days. He blinks once, as though he's trying to focus on me. Slowly, a smile spreads across his face.

It is all I can do not to leap onto his bed and embrace him. Instead, I rush to his side as he lifts his right hand and grasp it in both of mine. He squeezes my hand, his eyes never leaving my face. I press my lips to the backs of his fingers. Neither of us speaks for several moments; neither of us needs to. I stand over him, holding his hand in both of mine as I have everyday. But now he holds mine in earnest, and his fingers are warm.

"Dante," I whisper at last, bending to touch my lips to his forehead. They are trembling.

"Shh," he hushes me, releasing my hand and reaching for my face. "Don't say anything. I remember what happened. I know everything. And I know you've been here with me every day since." His index finger trails over my lips, and I nod.

"Some people came with me today, to see you. We didn't know you'd be awake," I explain. "Are you feeling well enough for visitors?"

He exhales once, slowly.

"Yes," he whispers, and his smile grows a little wider.

I return to the entrance to let Kylie know that she can let the others in. Dante looks surprised that these people, whose names he barely knew before, would come to visit him. But he is not reserved or aloof as he usually is in unfamiliar company. He is quiet and still shy, but clearly grateful for their presence.

Word must spread quickly about Dante's improved state, because not an hour later he is visited by all three of his brothers. They are the ones who let slip to him that Stage Two is starting in two days, regardless of who is ready and who isn't. To my great surprise and relief, they don't seem too worried about Dante's condition and how it will affect his results in this final stage.

"It mostly consists of sitting around and waiting," Derrick quips. "And I'm sure they'll monitor you closely during your preps. If it gets to be too much, they can always bring it down a notch. It shouldn't change much of anything in the end."

"You're giving too much away, Derrick," Dale warns, glancing at the group of initiates gathered, hanging on his every word. We have no idea what Stage Two holds, only that it is pure mental combat training. Derrick studies our expressions for a moment.

"Nope," he declares, "they all look clueless or lost in thought. They haven't guessed a thing."

I certainly haven't been able to riddle anything out of Derrick's words. What kind of training will we be starting in two days that will not adversely affect an initiate who just took a bullet to the chest? I suppose time will tell.


	20. Chapter 20

Because he's still healing and needs to rest, we aren't allowed to stay all day with Dante. We are herded out right before lunch and told that we can come back for an hour after dinner. Even though it's only been a few days, I feel somewhat out of place eating lunch in the Pit. I have grown accustomed to eating my meals the quiet order of the infirmary, and the Pit is the exact opposite of quiet and orderly.

I am utterly relieved that Dante is recovering and appears to be out of danger now, but the loss of Erica and Spencer dampers the elation I know I should be feeling. I have the afternoon free, so I decide to use that time the same way that I have been occupying all my free time recently: in the training rooms. Today I decide that I don't feel like running laps; I want to try something different. In one corner, I spot a climbing wall, and another end of the room has been set up as an obstacle course. These are more challenging than just running in circles, and reminiscent of the antics of my youth on the farm: climbing the trees, running through the fields, vaulting the fences.

I head toward the climbing wall first, where three Dauntless members are rotating dual climbs, challenging in turn the winner of the previous climb. Two of them are women, and one is a man. I stand slightly behind them for a time, watching their climbs and gauging the wall. The features of the wall can be set on a keypad next to the wall, including its incline and the number and size of foot- and handholds. They change it before each climb in order to keep the challenge fresh.

After a time, they notice me watching and ask if I'd like to join them. I tell them I've never done wall climbing before, and they kindly halt their exercises and show me the basics. They outfit me with a safety harness and climbing gloves and let me climb up several feet on my own. When I demonstrate that I have adequate competence for climbing, one of the women- a thin, wiry redhead named Jane- offers to climb along with me and coach me. She sets both sides of the wall to a beginner level, with ample hand and footholds, no overhangs, and at a slight incline from base to top instead of fully vertical.

We start together, and I am keenly aware of Jane's eyes on me as we climb. Reasonably, I know she is just watching to make sure I'm being safe, but somehow I find myself believing that she is also scrutinizing my every move: was it smart to grab that outcropping? Should I have put my left foot where I've put my right? These questions are at the forefront of my mind as we climb, rather than on the goal of reaching the top of the wall. I search the wall above me, looking for patterns in the outcroppings, for the best places to put my hands and feet as I climb. Memories of climbing trees in the orchards come rushing back: look up, map out the pattern of the branches along the trunk, gauge which ones can hold your weight, and just _go. _I resort to that old childhood technique now. I start to move faster, more assuredly. I glance over at Jane and find her staring at me with a peculiar expression on her face. She has increased her own speed to match mine, and is focusing more on what she is doing than what I am doing. We reach the top at the same time. I am winded, and Jane is breathing heavily too. After a moment, she turns to me.

"Are you _sure _you've never done this before?" she asks, almost warily.

"Climbing walls? Never. But I used to climb trees a lot. I transferred from Amity and my family worked in the orchards." I confess.

"Makes sense, I suppose," Jane replies. She frowns pensively for a moment, then calls down to her two companions on the ground. "Reset it to intermediate. Rain is too good for this beginner stuff."

We slide back down to the floor on the safety lines on our harnesses to wait while the wall is reset. It only takes a few seconds. When the light on the keypad turns green, signaling that the reset is complete and ready for use, Jane and I stand at its base again, gauging our way to the top. We start together, and when I am about ten feet off the ground, I see my route to the top clearly. The outcroppings are narrower and the crevices fewer, but I still move easily, fluidly between them. I glance over at Jane when we are about halfway up, and she glances back. A sheen of sweat has broken out across her forehead and her breath hisses raggedly between her teeth. She has been at this a lot longer than I have, so she's probably pretty worn out. I slow my pace so she can keep up. She shoots me a challenging glare and shakes her head as soon as she notices. I can't help it; I grin… and start moving upwards even faster than before.

From below, Jane's two companions start hooting and calling out to us in encouragement. My chest is heaving and the muscles in my arms and legs are burning from the effort, but I press on. This time I reach the top before Jane. I'm still grinning, and she is laughing breathlessly when she hits the top a second later.

"Are you part cat or something? How can you climb so fast?" She shakes her head at me. She looks impressed, and that makes me feel a little shy and a little proud at the same time.

"Practice, I guess. I always liked climbing the trees when I was little. I could climb higher than any of the other kids. I was never afraid because I could always see where I could put my hands and feet," I recall. "It's the same with the wall. I just look up, and I can see the path to the top in a matter of seconds. After that, I'd just follow it." I say. Remembering how tall and majestic those trees looked when I was small brings an unbidden pang of nostalgia.

"Like I said," Jane snorts. "Part cat."

We slide back down and Jane takes a break. Her friends give her a mild ribbing for getting beaten on a not-very-challenging wall by an initiate. She waves them off, pointing out that she'd been up and down the wall several times before I showed up; the outcome, she is sure, would have been different if she'd been fresh. Her male companion adjusts the harness to fit his much larger frame, slips into it, and turns to me as he clips the carabiners to the safety rope.

"Ready for one more go?" he asks. I hesitate for a moment; this guy is massive. He's at least as tall as Dante; probably even taller, with close-cropped hair, piercing green eyes, and a thick neck. Not to mention he is a solid wall of muscle. But I have nothing better to do for now, so…

"You're on," I reply, accepting his challenge.

The second we start I know I'm way outclassed by this guy. The first thing he does is jump straight up and grab a handhold about four feet above his head... with one hand. He proceeds to pull himself up, grab a second hold with his free hand, finds a purchase for his feet, and then he's off like a shot, his massive reach and strength opening a wide gap between us. I grit my teeth and climb as fast as I can, but my slow start has cost me this race. He never looks around as he climbs, and beats me to the top easily. As soon as he stops, he turns back to look for me. I managed to close the gap somewhat, and my hands are level with his heels. He looks a little surprised. A few seconds later, I reach the top.

"Well, I admit," he says huskily, "you were a lot closer to me than I thought you'd be. You're a natural, Rain. Keep at this and you'll be one of the best climbers we've got in Dauntless. Comes in handy out in the city on patrol. Might want to keep that in mind."

He winks, and before I can reply, he slides back down the safety line to the ground. I consider his words for a split second, but then I shake my head. As much guilt as I associate with my poor judgment of Spencer, I still remember what he told me about the Perimeter Guard. That has been my sole focus as a career goal after training is over. I want to be near my family, and have the chance to see Annette and Paul and their baby. I want them to know that I am out there, and that by joining Dauntless I have not abandoned them but have chosen to dedicate my life to protecting them. Being a City Guard may be appealing right now because of the adrenaline rush I'm experiencing, but if I focus on my priorities, I know that being in city security is not an option unless there are no others. That thought sends a chill through me, and sets my pulse racing for a moment. I am deeply disturbed by the thought of having necessity become my only option.

I thank Jane and her friends for the lessons, which they seem to find amusing, and take my leave. I want to get a shower before dinner so I can look presentable when I go back to visit Dante afterwards. Aside from while I slept, I have not spent this much time away from him since he was shot. I hope he is continuing to regain his strength, and that he really will be healthy enough to rejoin the rest of the initiates for Stage Two in two days. I don't know what I would do if he wasn't allowed to continue…

I shake my head hard to clear it. I don't even want to go down that road. I just lost Erica and Spencer; I nearly lost Dante at the same time. I can't bear the thought of something else coming between us.

As I am leaving the training room, I glance over my shoulder at the climbing wall. Jane and her friends have moved on to another station: the obstacle course at the far end of the room. Maybe I'll try that next time I'm here. But for now, I'm headed for clean skin and clothes.

Sometime later, scrubbed and changed, I join Nicole, Nate, and Joseph for dinner. The Dauntless-born initiates are already in the Pit sitting at their usual table across from ours. I am surprised to see Jacqueline rise from that table and walk over to join us, settling across from me and next to Nate with a shy smile. Nate glances at her and returns the smile, a slight blush rising in his cheeks. I find myself staring at them and have to tear my eyes away. They come to rest on Joseph and Nicole, who seem even cozier as they sit side by side to my right.

It takes me a moment to realize just what is happening with my friends, and I feel like I have been very blind not to notice before. I think back to the night before, when everyone migrated from their original beds to those around me. I didn't even notice before that Nicole and Joseph had positioned themselves head-to-head against the wall next to me. I also should have noticed how closely they walked together that morning on the way to the infirmary. I make a mental note to confront these girls soon for some late-night girl-talk about these developments. I fully realize that this means that I will also have to do some talking about Dante and myself, but I don't intend to tell them more than what they've already seen.

I finish my meal feeling more than a little like a third wheel between the two couples. I don't even bother asking them if they want to come along to see Dante tonight. If they want to come, they know they are welcome. I slip away as soon as I finish, heading towards the corridor that leads to the infirmary. Just before I reach it, I hear someone shout my name. I look around to see Carla striding up to me with a half smile on her face.

"Hey Rain," she greets as she reaches me, "Listen, I want you to know how sorry I am about Erica and Spencer. I know they were your friends. It's just awful, what happened. If you ever need to talk, come see me, okay?"

"That's very kind," I reply. Every time someone mentions them, I feel like my heart is going to break all over again. But Carla has shown before that she does care, and has remarkable insight into what people need. I can't hold it against her. "I'll keep that in mind."

"I also heard earlier that Dante is doing a lot better today. I haven't had a chance to go see him, but Dale tells me you've been there with him just about constantly," she continues.

"I have," I admit a bit sheepishly. "At first they- his doctors- wanted me to stay close in case he needed an emergency blood transfusion, because he and I have the same type. He did, obviously, and after that… well, I just kind of stayed as long as they would let me every day."

Carla reaches out and grips my arm, her eyes as wide as her smile.

"Thank you for doing that," she says in a quiet voice. "He may not admit it, but I'm sure that knowing you were there gave him a lot of strength and a lot of hope. I've never seen him as comfortable with someone as he is with you, Rain. Even his brothers, and his old friend Jessie- they never brought out in him what you have. I'll tell you this: I have known Dante for as long as I have known Dale. I may have known him better than anyone outside of his own family until you came along, and what I do know about him amounts to this: something about _you_ is good for _him_. Stay true, Rain."

I am at a loss for words. Hers have struck some part of me that I never knew existed. Somebody close to Dante is of a very strong opinion that I am his catalyst to happiness, and that seems to be something of which he has very little. I do know that I make him happy- he would not have told me that he loves me if there was not happiness involved with that. But just what it is about me that affects him so, I have no idea. It occurs to me that I still know very little about Dante and who he really is.

Soon enough I intend to find out, but not before he's had time to heal. After Stage Two, I resolve.

"Thank you. I will: you have my word on that," I promise Carla.

"Speaking of promises," her expression changes to one of sly mischief. "I seem to recall that you made one to me before, but you have yet to come through."

I suddenly remember the clothes she lent me for the bonfire. I gasp in horror; I still have them in my footlocker. I must look particularly comical, because she lets out a hearty guffaw before clasping my hands in hers.

"Don't worry about it, they weren't missed," she chuckles. "But I do still need them back. If you could please drop them off tomorrow morning?"

"This time I won't forget," I promise her. She nods, laughs again, and sends me on my way. I feel absolutely awful for forgetting my promise, but I am also relieved that Carla is being forgiving. The mental note to return the clothes tomorrow morning is practically burned into the inside of my eyelids as I hurry down the hall towards the infirmary.


	21. Chapter 21

As I enter the infirmary, I hear a number of male voices coming from the ward where Dante has spent the last several days healing from his gunshot wound. At first they are an unfamiliar cacophony of unintelligible noise, no particular words or emotions evident. There is only one nurse at the station up front, and I notice that she hesitates a moment before nodding and waving me in. As I enter the ward, I see that the sources of the voices are all standing around Dante's bed. The first person I recognize is one of his doctors; he is the one doing the talking at the moment.

"…must be _constantly_ monitored during the _entire_ process. While I'm not happy about forcing this on him so soon, I do agree that his level of fitness will reduce the risks greatly. But I must insist that, should the process reveal any more than twelve, or last any longer than fifteen minutes, that he be pulled immediately. Anything beyond that is too risky…"

Eric, whom I recognize next, interrupts him. "You _do _realize that pulling him will put him at a significant disadvantage to the other initiates during the final test." He sounds like he is dead-set against the medical advice of the doctor. Does this guy give a damn at all about what Dante has just been through? Or about the fact that Spencer, who looked up to him and revered his strength, is dead? Eric's condescending voice sets me on edge.

"Obviously," the doctor replied calmly. "But if he dies during the testing process, I'd say he'll be at an even greater disadvantage. Wouldn't you agree?"

Eric grunts, but otherwise gives no reply. The fact that Dante could die during Stage Two doesn't seem to matter as long as his top-ranked trainee remains at number one. I feel a deep loathing beginning to seethe into my heart. I want Eric to get out. I want him to leave Dante the hell alone. But what I want and what I can expect to happen are as different as night and day.

"I will assign a member of his rehabilitation team to monitor his training daily," the doctor continues. "The idea is to keep Dante as competitive as possible, but to also present as few threats to his full recovery as possible."

I am standing in the shadows; no one has noticed me yet. I move a little closer. I can make out the silhouettes of Harrison and Dale, in addition to Eric and the doctor. There is a woman with them, but her back is turned to me so I can't tell who she is.

Harrison speaks next. "Well, he is not in my charge as he is not among my trainees, but I'll give you my opinion. I am in accordance with you," he nods in the direction of the doctor, then continues: "in that I don't feel that this should be forced on him, but the fact remains that if he does not continue his training, as stated by the faction rules, he would be cast out and be factionless."

The group falls into a tense silence. I can hardly believe what I've just heard: is Harrison suggesting that Dante be cast aside so he doesn't hold the rest of us up? That he should be forced to live factionless because some jealous psychopath shot him?

The repercussions of revealing our relationship are creating a ripple effect that I never could have imagined. I think back to how often Dante insisted that it was smarter to hide what was happening between us, and now I see just how right he was. If we had done what he suggested, Spencer may have never found out about us and this would never have happened. I may have been able to save Spencer from himself, and save Erica and Dante from the monstrous thing that Spencer became. But I had been careless; I have been selfish and shortsighted. I had invited Dante to go with me to the bonfire party, and he had accepted because he knew it would make me happy. He had known all along that negative things could come of that, but he had said yes because he didn't want to let me down.

My palms are sweating. The group around Dante's bed has begun talking again, but in lowered voices, all serious tones. I don't hear them clearly; I don't want to hear them at all. I take one more sidestep, keeping to the shadows, and between Eric and Dale's silhouettes I can see Dante propped up by pillows into a sitting position on his bed, his dark eyes glimmering intensely, watching each person as they speak. Something about him seems different, more primal than I've ever seen him before, but I can't quite put my finger on it. I focus on his face, trying not to listen to the conversation but hearing it all the same. The woman, it turns out, is named Lauren. She is one of the trainers of the Dauntless-born initiates. She remains quiet for the most part, but she raises her voice decisively to broach another silence between the men.

"Well we've all done what we came here to do," she addresses the others before turning her head to Dante. "I don't think anyone has left anything out. Ultimately the decision is up to you. Think on it for tonight, and we will come back for your answer in the morning."

Dante gives her a simple nod and the doctor signals everyone to leave. I turn on my heel and retrace my steps. As I pass the nurse's station, she gives me a questioning look. I press an index finger to my pursed lips, asking her to keep silent about me. She shrugs and assumes a neutral expression as I hurry out of the infirmary. I don't need Eric or Harrison or anyone else in that group to know that I was eavesdropping on their conversation. I retreat down the hall and turn down the corridor that leads to the training room. I wait several minutes before retracing my steps to the infirmary. This time I check with the nurse before I enter.

"Is the coast clear?" I murmur, pointing in the direction of Dante's ward.

"Yes, they all left. He should be resting, but you still have forty five minutes before visiting hours end," she nods. "Go ahead on in. He might need someone he trusts to talk to."

I follow the corridor into the ward, a route I could probably walk blindfolded now. Dante is still sitting up, propped up against his pillows. His hands are in his lap, and he is staring down at them. He appears to be so deep in thought that he does not see or hear me enter. I pause in the darkness of the corridor when I realize what is so different about his appearance. Around his chest and over his left shoulder are wrapped white bandages, but other than that he is topless. I've never seen Dante in less than a tank top and combat suit pants before. Now, the white linens of his hospital bed are pooled in his lap, revealing him entirely from the waist up. I try to ignore the thought that he may be completely naked under those sheets as I step into the pool of light emitted from the fixture above his bed.

He looks up quickly, and I catch the traces of a very dark expression that flee his features when his eyes meet mine. I want to ask him what he was thinking about, but I am too distracted by his physique to say much of anything. He reaches his right hand out to me, but I hesitate for an instant before stepping close enough to place mine in it. He looks bewildered until my eyes flick involuntarily from his face to sweep up and down his torso.

His hair is unbound and mussed from spending most of his time lying down. It catches the light as he raises his head, locks sliding over his neck and toned shoulders, gleaming like tendrils of satin in the harsh overhead light. It is much longer than it appears when he wears it in his customary ponytail; reaching nearly to his elbows where it cascades down his shoulders. I watch in rapt fascination as the strands slide across his bare skin, the light casting just enough shadow to accentuate the rippling muscles of his shoulders, arms, and abdomen.

I recall the feather-softness of that hair against my face on the night that Dante swept me into his arm, kissed me, and told me that he loves me. Unbidden, my mind travels to thoughts of his lips on mine, moving to my jaw, my neck, and down…

My pulse picks up. I am staring at him, staring as though seeing him for the first time. Something about his bare skin has woken something in me, a desire I've never felt before, and it is very powerful and frightening. I swallow hard, and realize I have been holding my breath. I let it out in a sharp gasp.

A wry smile tugs at Dante's lips, but his eyes remain veiled. He beckons me to his side, and I finally step forward and take his hand. I am keenly aware of the energy that passes between us as our fingers and palms touch. His skin is smooth and supple, his hand warm and strong. I wonder if the rest of his skin feels as perfect under my fingertips. Try as I might, I can't stop staring at him. He notices, but doesn't make a move to cover up. I wonder how someone who is so shy around most people can be so completely comfortable with me staring at him when he's practically naked… until he tightens his grip on my hand and I feel his fingers trembling.

I realize with a start that what I was seeing in Dante's eyes- the reason for his distraction as I entered the room- is deep, deep worry. I don't know if it's actual fear that I'm witnessing, because I have come to believe that he is better at hiding fear than he is at anything else. Either that, or he simply has no fear at all. I squeeze his hand back and he looks back to his lap. His eyes close, and a deep crease appears between his eyebrows. His hand continues to tremble. I fold it into both of mine.

"I heard them talking earlier," I admit in a murmur. "I didn't want to interrupt so I waited until they left. But I heard what they said."

I want to give him words of encouragement, I want to tell him that he will be all right, but I can't lie to him so I say nothing more. He is silent and still for several moments, then he pulls me close to him. He releases my hand, wrapping his right arm around me and practically pulling me into the bed with him. I perch awkwardly on the edge instead, wrapping my arms around him, being careful not to touch the wounded area of his chest, trying to ignore the smooth silkiness of his skin as my hands and forearms come into contact with it. He shifts toward me, pressing into my embrace. He is trembling all over.

"Talk to me," I beg in a whisper. My lips pressed to the top of his head as he burrows his face into the hollow between my neck and shoulder. This close to him, I can hear that he is breathing in ragged gulps. I feel his heart thundering in his chest where my wrist rests lightly against it. He shakes his head and swallows, and it seems to me that he is on the verge of tears.

This terrifies me.

"You're scared." I say. Not a question.

He nods. I toss aside my reservations and climb fully onto the bed with him, holding him close. He shudders and collapses into my arms, all the strength gone out of him.

"I am, too," I admit. I know that his decision must be made tomorrow, and I know that it is a frightening one. "But here's what I think. I think that you will stay. I think that you chose Dauntless because you're truly brave. I know it would take courage to leave our faction, too: but that's suicide and you know it. They won't waste resources and medicine on you if you choose to leave, and you need those in order to heal. The factionless don't get adequate medical care for even the most minor of injuries or illnesses. You won't be treated any differently if you leave, so you'd be as good as..." I can't say it. Not when I have experienced so much death so recently. He just nods, once, against my neck.

"I also know that _you are Dauntless_. You will stay and face Stage Two because you don't fear it. Stage Two is about facing our fears and conquering them. It will be that much more meaningful to you, then, that you face this fear… and survive," I conclude. As I say these words, I know they are true. I know that this will be his decision: to risk death as an initiate than to face it in its certainty among the factionless. He is silent for a long while, and very still. I could believe that he is sleeping if he wasn't still trembling.

"Oh, Rain," he whispers, so softly that at first I'm not sure that he's spoken. "If only it was that simple."

"What do you mean?" I ask. What's not simple about choosing the possibility of survival over certain death?

"It's… more complicated than just choosing to stay and face Stage Two," he keeps his words to a whisper, as though he is afraid to speak them. This is something more than his usual reluctance of verbal communication. There is urgency to his words, desperation to be understood, but I don't know what it is that he wants me to understand.

"Go on," I encourage, dropping my voice to match his almost-inaudible whisper.

"Do you know how we train during Stage Two? Has anyone told you the details?" He asks. I admit that I haven't learned anything other than its premise: face your worst fears and conquer them.

"It's like the aptitude test. You are injected with a serum that triggers hallucinations of your worst fears. And like the aptitude test, our instructors monitor our responses and choices on a computer, logging the results in our records. Records that anyone with authority has access to." He pauses, as though he is waiting for me respond. When I don't, he drops his voice even lower and moves his lips closer to my ear.

"What is your worst fear, Rain?" He asks. "Do you know what it is?"

"I guess my worst fear is… running out of options," I say at length. I never really thought about it before, but recalling my earlier thoughts of having my only option be that of necessity, I conclude that such a situation would be the worst thing I could ever face.

Dante nods his acknowledgement.

"Knowing what you know about me, can you guess what mine is?" He asks, his lips brushing my earlobe.

I consider this for a long time. What do I know about Dante? I know that he is seen by others as aloof and antisocial, and can appear cruel to those who try to get close (I have experienced this myself). But once I got past that, I learned that he is kind and caring and longing for companionship. So, knowing this, what have I learned about Dante's worst fears?

It comes to me in a rush.

"You're afraid of people learning who you really are," I whisper.

He swallows and nods.

"But why? I have seen a little of that, and I don't think you're a bad person. In fact, I think exactly the opposite," I say, trying to encourage him. He shakes his head and grips me tighter.

"I have a very good reason for keeping people out," he says brusquely. I know he is waiting for me to figure it out: he is not going to tell me outright. I ponder some more. Why would he fear letting people get close to him so badly that he shuts out the world? And why won't he tell me outright?

Again it comes to me in a rush, and I feel my pulse quicken. I become acutely aware that this person in my arms, who once told me he loves me, to whom I have just told my greatest fear, may be a complete stranger. I move my face so my lips are touching his ear, and whisper as quietly as I can.

"You have a secret."

I feel his pulse quicken again. He nods slowly.

"And you are ready to tell me."

He moves his lips against my ear, just as I did.

"Please don't betray me. If you care for me at all… please," he is begging. Dante, the tall, powerful enigma who taught me what it means to be strong in so many ways, is desperately begging me for my confidentiality.

"I would never. You have my solemn word on it."

"Thank you. I have to ask you something first, though, and you have to tell me the truth. I'm trusting you with my deepest secret and greatest fear, so please tell me this one truth."

"A Candor couldn't be more honest."

Dante exhales. He presses his lips directly to the opening of my ear. His voice is even less than a whisper.

"What was your aptitude test result?"

"Dauntless," I admit, matching the volume of his voice.

"Well, mine wasn't," he says, lips still pressed to my ear for audibility. I am absolutely astounded by this. Dante, who has been at the top of the rankings since Day One, didn't get a Dauntless result in his aptitude test?

"Mine was…" he is barely emitting any sound at all when he speaks.

But his next word resounds in my head as though he shouted it.

And it was not the name of any of the five factions.

_[Author's note: I owe a huge debt of gratitude to the Japanese metal band Dir en grey and their song _Ryoujoku No Ame_, which I played on repeat as I wrote the majority of this chapter. Their music has always been a catalyst for me getting the words right when I write, and this song especially.]_


	22. Chapter 22

I don't want to leave him tonight. More than on the night when he showed me his journal; more than on Visiting Day when he told me about my dress, then that evening when we lay in the net looking at the stars. More than on the nights in which he lay in critical condition after being shot.

What he has just told me is not only _his _deepest secret; it is the deepest secret that any person can harbor. By rights, Dante should be dead because of it, and it terrifies me.

"_Inconclusive."_

His confession echoes in my mind as though it is an empty room. My arms are still draped gingerly around his shoulders, our lips on each other's ears. He presses his face harder against the side of my head and takes a shuddering breath. He lets it out sharply a few seconds later. He clings to me, trembling. I know I should say something, but I have no idea what.

The only knowledge I have of divergents has come from my parents and community in Amity. I was told that they are dangerous, that they threaten the peace maintained by the faction system. That they could bring on another massive, terrible war if not eradiated.

But looking at Dante now- Dante, who has been such an unwavering symbol of strength- I can't imagine him as dangerous. I can't imagine him threatening the entire system under which society functions. But if he truly is divergent, then what I believe won't matter.

His worst fear is that he will be found out.

And if that is revealed during Stage Two, it won't be the still-healing bullet wound in his chest that presents a very serious risk to his life, although it would be an ideal thing to blame his death on if they want to cover it up. It won't matter, and now I understand why he is so scared. There are three possibilities that could end his life in the next few weeks.

Choose to continue with Stage Two: have his worst fear revealed, be exposed as divergent, and get executed.

Choose to continue with Stage Two: risk being not healed enough to handle the stress of the simulations, and die from medical complications.

Choose to not continue with Stage Two: get thrown out of Dauntless and live factionless, where he will not get the medical care he needs to heal properly, and end up dead in a month.

Of course, he has a fourth possibility, but the chances of that happening are much narrower than any of the others. He could get through Stage Two and survive, if his health holds and if his divergence remains a secret.

"Dante," I whisper, sliding my hand through the long, silky strands of hair on the back of his head, "it doesn't change anything between us. You're still _you_."

Slowly, I feel him release his desperate grip on me. He lifts his head away from mine and looks in my eyes. He still looks wary, as though he doesn't trust my words. Gently, I take his face in my hands and place a soft, lingering kiss on his lips.

"You'll always be you," I whisper against them as we separate.

The sudden ringing of a bell from the nurse's station signals that visiting hours have come to an end. I look down and remember that I have crawled onto Dante's bed with him, which is not something I would have ever anticipated doing at this point in my life, but I find myself absolutely dreading the thought of leaving his side now.

My hands slide from his cheeks to his jaw, down his chin, and slowly into the open air between us. His eyes are closed, but I can see the turmoil in his face all the same. I slip my legs off the side of the narrow bed and stand. Dante reaches out, groping for my hand. I slide my fingers between his and squeeze, hoping he can find some reassurance, some strength in our touch.

"Rain," Dante's voice is a hoarse whisper. "Tell me I can trust you."

"Do you want to trust me?" I ask gently.

"Yes."

"Then you already know my answer." I lean forward and kiss him again, harder. This time he kisses me back.

I hear the click of the nurse's shoes on the concrete floor, moving in our direction.

"I have to go," I say as we break apart, "but I will be back as soon as they'll let me in the morning."

"I know."

"Rain?" Kylie's voice rings out from the front of the ward.

"I know, Kylie, I'm on my way. Thank you," I reply to her in a falsely pleasant tone. The sound of her shoes retreats back toward her station. I turn back to Dante. He has settled back onto his pillows.

"I'm staying," he murmurs, "because you're worth staying for."

I say the first thing that pops into my head.

"We'll get through this. We'll find a way. There _has_ to be one, and we _will_ find it. Together. I promise you," I tell him, and I see a little of that fire return to his eyes.

"See you tomorrow," I try to sound strong and certain. I turn slowly away, but I keep my head up and my shoulders squared.

"I love you, Rain," I hear him say with certainty. There is no question in his tone, no fishing for a response. I pause, glancing back at him with a smile.

"I know you do. And that's worth fighting for." I turn back toward the front of the ward, letting another patient's visitor pass in front of me on their way out. Behind me, the light over Dante's bed winks out.

In my own bed ten minutes later, I lie awake wondering what tomorrow will bring for the rest of us. I have become close to so many people here recently: not only my fellow transfers, but some of the Dauntless-born initiates and full-fledged Dauntless members as well. I know that some of us will be cut from Stage Two by the end of it, and the thought of losing someone like Nicole or Jacqueline or Nate is a saddening prospect. I have lost so much already, I don't know if I could bear to lose any more.

But at least Dante has promised to stay. I find some hope in that, although it's just a sliver. I have promised him that I would do whatever I could to help him, and I intend to hold myself to that. He went out of his way to help me in Stage One at a time when we were no more than strangers. I would have never passed if it wasn't for Dante, and now I desperately hope that I can be even a fraction as helpful to him in Stage Two.

The trouble is, I don't even know where to begin. Serum-induced simulations are not something that can be consciously controlled like the physical aspects of combat that Dante helped me master. There is no way that I can be there to help him during training, and short of stealing serum, hacking the computers used to monitor the simulations, and breaking curfew, there is no way that I can think of to help him practice outside of normal training. And this is something for which I can't seek Four's help, for obvious reasons.

I am still struggling for a solution as I drift off to sleep. My troubled mind won't let me rest peacefully. I find myself in a dream- and instantly I know that it is a dream because I am looking at Erica standing on the edge of the roof above the hole-in-the-ground entrance to Dauntless headquarters. A breeze moves through her hair, scattering the dyed-red strands across the blackness of the rest. She stands on the edge of the roof near the tracks, looking back at the city skyline. I walk toward her, but she does not look away, or smile, or acknowledge me at all.

I am standing at her side, and the weight of my grief is pressing on my chest like a boulder. I open my mouth, but I don't know what to say.

"I miss you," she says, somehow finding the perfect words in their simplicity.

"I miss you too," I whisper. Erica: my friend, my confidant. Gone forever.

"I know you want to help him," she says after a few moments of no other sound than the wind.

"I do. I have to help him. I've lost more than I can bear, and I can's stand the thought of losing him, too," I tell her.

She shakes her head.

"Don't think like that. That was Spencer's state of mind, and look how he ended up. You can't let that happen to yourself," she says, but her words are not condescending. There is no hate or regret in her tone.

"How do I stop?" I ask.

"Help him. Think of him instead of yourself. Figure out what he needs, and then be that." Her answer is more than a little cryptic.

"I _am_ thinking of him. But I can't think of anything I can do to help him," I retort.

"It's not about _doing_; it's about _being_."

"Being?" Now I'm even more confused.

"Yes. You can't _do_ what he needs to do- that's up to him," she explains. "But you can _be_ what he needs in order to get through this."

This isn't helping, and it's frustrating me.

"What he needs, Erica? Do you even know what he fears most? He fears _himself_! He needs to not be afraid of what he is," I snap. Her face brightens, not the reaction I expected, and she turns to face me at last.

"Exactly. Now ask yourself why he's afraid of himself, and why he is the way he is," she smiles. A train is approaching from the direction of the city. "Get ready."

"Ready for what?" I ask. I still don't know how to help Dante. I'm sure that Erica does, but she won't tell me.

"Ready to jump!" she shouts over the sound of the train bearing down on us.

"No, don't jump!" I shout in warning. If she jumps, she dies.

But she is already running. I run after her. I am faster than her, I always have been. I catch up to her easily, but we are running on the edge of the roof and I can't reach out my hand to grab her or we will both fall.

The train reaches us, and I know I'm too late.

Before she jumps, Erica turns back to me.

"Your blood…" she begins, but the noise from the train right beside us is too loud. I see her mouth move but I can't hear her words. She turns away and jumps through an open door on the train and disappears.

I wake with a start in the pitch-darkness. My heart is pounding and I'm breathing hard, but at least I'm not screaming.

I can't fall back to sleep for some time, so I lie awake thinking about my dream. What was it that Erica was saying about my blood at the end? I gave blood for Dante's transfusion… but that can't have anything to do with Dante suppressing his fears. Erica seemed so sure that I could help Dante not by doing something for him, but by being something. What could that mean?

I consider Stage One of my initiation. When Four recognized my potential as an athlete but saw that I was struggling, he convinced Dante to help me with one-on-one training sessions. But that was both of them _doing _something, until…

…Until…

Until Dante and I became friends, and then became more than friends. Had Four planned it that way? Had he somehow known about the connection that Dante and I had? I'm sure he heard about the roof incident on Choosing Day. Is that why he asked him to train me?

Did he specifically ask Dante to be my trainer in order to help me, or in order to help Dante?

I decide that I have to confront Four about this. The trick is going to be asking him in private, and without him suspecting why I'm asking. If any of them find out that Dante is divergent, he's as good as dead.

I drift off to sleep as I deliberate on this new conundrum.


	23. Chapter 23

My dreams leave me to my slumber for the rest of the night, so I wake up feeling refreshed. As I get dressed, I construct a plan of action for this, my final day off before training resumes. I'd rather spend the whole day with Dante, but I have to figure out a way to help him and that is going to be very difficult if I don't get a chance to talk to Four. It has occurred to me that I have no idea where Four lives, who he hangs out with, or what he does in his free time, so really I have nothing to go on but meal times as far as a way of finding him. And considering the public nature of meals in Dauntless, they present a much less-than-ideal time for me to ask him if I can discuss something with him.

It has also occurred to me that he may not be the best choice of people to go to for help. Sure, he bent a few rules to help me- or maybe he was helping Dante- before, and I still want to confront him about that; but seeking his advice in this situation and expecting him to keep it in confidence is a completely different matter. I have also considered going to one of his brothers, because they may know his secret too, but I determined that if this were the case then they would already be helping him. It's clear that they care a great deal about their baby brother and would do anything within their means to help if they knew he was in trouble. I have also considered, perhaps more strongly than anyone else, going to Carla for advice. But again I am stymied by the fact that I have promised Dante that I would keep his secret to myself, and that by sharing it I not only put him at risk, but also myself and the person to whom I am going for advice.

In the end I decide that I will have to figure this out on my own, but I still have questions not directly related to Dante's current situation that I want to ask Four and Carla. But even before I start looking for them, I have a different promise to keep to Dante.

I wolf down my breakfast of eggs and ham, avoiding the toast and biscuits that are also on offer. I still have thirty minutes before visiting hours start when I arrive at the infirmary, but today I really can't focus on doing anything outside of what's going on with Dante, so hitting the training rooms is not high on my list of priorities for this morning. I do add them to my places to prowl later in search of Four. Carla will be much easier: I know she'll be in her store all day.

As I wait, I sit on a worn wooden bench in the lounge and reflect on the particulars of last night's dream. I know it was just a dream, and thus I can reason that Erica was not actually communicating with me from beyond the grave, but I do know that she was always a source of advice and information for me after I joined Dauntless. Never before last night's revelation have I ever needed those two things more, which is probably why she, specifically, was in my dream. Subconsciously, I was seeking the answers I need to help Dante get through Stage Two alive. In my dream, my advice-giver appeared and gave me a direction to follow: it's not what needs to be done, but something that Dante needs me to be, that will help him. I assume that my own subconscious came to this conclusion, which means that…

I already know the answer; I just need to figure out what it is.

Realizing this does not help me. If anything, it frustrates me even further. When the nurse on duty finally calls my name and tells me that I can go into Dante's ward now, my head is in my hands and I am hunched over with my chest pressed to my lap. As I walk past her station, she gives me a concerned look and asks if I'm feeling all right. I try to smile, and just tell her that I didn't get much sleep last night. I walk past her swiftly so she can't see the lie in my eyes.

I slow down once I'm in the curved corridor that leads to the ward, trying to pull myself together. I run my hands over my hair, trying to smooth the flyaway bits that have escaped my customary braid. I scrub at my face with my hands, trying to erase any signs of fatigue and stress. I don't want Dante to see the worry in my features, don't want him to feel like he's the reason I look a mess. I have to keep doing what I've been doing: I have to be strong for him.

I freeze mid-step.

_That's it!_

It's not what I have to _do; _it's what I have to _be._

Strong. Brave. Dependable. Straightforward. Sympathetic.

I exhale in an attempt to relieve the pressure I feel suddenly clenching my heart. I take another step, then another.

I know what I have to be.

I know what Dante needs.

And I am surprised to find that I am ready to be just that.

When I reach his bed, he is sleeping. He is laying on his back with the bedclothes pulled up to the bandages encircling his chest, his right arm bent at the elbow, hand resting just below his solar plexus. His left arm is straight at his side. His posture and expression are relaxed, natural. This tells me that he is just asleep, not sedated. I've come to know the difference. I feel my face relax when I see him, glad that he is able to sleep peacefully despite everything that is going on.

I take my seat in the usual chair at his right side and wait for him to wake. The ward is otherwise quiet- there are only two other patients in this room, and they are all the way down at the far end. So far, they have no visitors this morning. I watch Dante, but differently than on the days I watched him sleep under sedation. Before, I was just staring at him, willing him to live but always bracing myself for that to change at any moment. Now I am just watching, absorbing the simple beauty of him in this peaceful state.

His hair is loose, strewn across the pillows in chaotic disarray. It is the most luxurious color of brown that I have ever seen. It is not a mousy, flat brown like Nate's or a dark brown-black like Four's; it is a perfect medium-brown that brings to mind the chestnuts that fell from the Amity orchards every fall, or the syrup that we spent days boiling down from the sap of maple and birch trees. Others may think that brown is very plain, but Dante just wouldn't be the same with any other hair color. My eyes travel from his hair to his face. His eyebrows are narrow and arched across his high, sculpted brow- almost perfectly symmetrical. Even when they are closed, I can feel the intensity of those fire-brown eyes. Like his hair, his eyes are the most unique shade of brown that I have ever seen. I remember the first time I saw them up close, the first time I got a really good look at them, I thought they were the same color as the chocolates that my parents brought me for my twelfth birthday.

I remember thinking that those little candies were too beautiful to eat, so I kept them in their box for five days and just looked at them. On the fifth day, I took a nibble of the corner of one piece, and I learned that they tasted even better than they looked. After I ate all four of them, I was a little sad because I didn't have my beautiful birthday present to look at anymore. But I always remembered them. And when I first saw the color of Dante's eyes, the color of my chocolates was the first thing that came to mind.

But the color of chocolate is a poor comparison for eyes that burn so brightly, it's as though a fire rages behind them. I see the flicker of red-orange flames every time I look into them. He has a surprisingly short nose, but the wide nostrils and slightly rounded tip make it seem larger than it is. His cheekbones are high and a little too broad for the rest of his face, but they lend themselves well to his usually stern expression. His jaw, in contrast curves softly to his balanced chin, rounding out the lower half of his face. Lips that are almost perfectly symmetrical in size frame his wide mouth. His hair obscures most of his long, elegant neck, but where it broadens to meet his collarbones, his exposed skin is smooth and pale. His shoulders and chest are broad and muscular without being bulky. His arms are likewise corded with muscle; chiseled and without excess. His hands are broad with long fingers that seem too refined for punching or gripping knives or squeezing cold, steel triggers, but callouses on the middle joints of each finger and along his knuckles give him away.

I am still watching his right hand when he stirs, the rustling of the crisp bed sheets bringing me out of my reverie. My eyes return to his face just as he opens his eyes. I stand and reach for him, gently caressing his cheek with my fingertips. He closes his eyes again, reaching his right hand up to cup it around mine, turns his head, and presses his lips to my fingers.

"I missed you," he whispers into them. I can't help but smile.

"You were asleep," I observe. "How could you miss me without knowing I was gone?"

He pauses, eyes still closed, and smiles.

"I always know when you're gone," he replies. Honestly, I can't believe that this is the same cold, intimidating Dante that fed me one snide, condescending remark after another during our first real conversation. But considering his surprising turnaround at the end of that conversation, I suppose I shouldn't be all that shocked: it was all just a front that everyone else had come to expect from him.

"What a coincidence," I tease him. "I always know when I'm gone, too."

He chuckles a little in response, then winces and attempts to raise his left hand to his chest. That makes him wince more, and he resigns with an exasperated exhale. He opens his eyes and looks into the light above his bed.

"How am I ever going to get through Stage Two like this?" He mutters. Normally, because I don't have a concrete answer, I wouldn't say anything. But today, with my new resolve firmly intact, I do.

"You will get through because I'm going to help you," I say with conviction. He turns his head to face me.

"Just being near you helps me," he says slowly. "But I can't be near you in the simulation."

"Yes you can," I contradict him.

"How? Do you think Eric or Lauren will let you sit in on my sessions? Give me special privileges just because I'm injured, or because I was top ranked in Stage One? That'll never happen and you know it." Fear and doubt are creeping back into his expression, his words clipped.

"No," I say, shaking my head and moving to the edge of his bed. I take a seat by his hip and wrap both of my hands around his right hand. I lift it to my mouth and lightly kiss his fingers, like he did to mine. "But I'm always with you, Dante, in a way."

I lower his hand to my chest, hovering just over my heart.

"I gave you my blood to keep you alive. When you opened your eyes again, you took my heart along with it."

I press his palm to my chest, just over my heart. Dante presses his fingertips into my skin and exhales audibly.

"Come here," he whispers. I lean down to meet his lips. This time, he raises his left arm without difficulty, and wraps both arms around me. I cradle his head in my hands, feeling the silkiness of his hair between my fingers. My lips tremble against his as he draws me closer to him. At length we break apart, both smiling, and I sit up. Our eyes are locked on each other.

"I love you, Dante," I whisper.

"I love you, too," he murmurs, his eyes never leaving mine.

"I will find a way to get you through this, but I can't do it alone," I whisper.

_You can't tell anyone._ He mouths the words; he wouldn't dare say them aloud. I shake my head, dismissing the thought that I would broach that topic with anyone.

"I just need to find out a few things. I have to talk to a couple of people, and I have to do it today," I explain. "Trust me."

He hesitates a moment, turning my words over in his mind.

"I trust you. I love you," he says.

"Thank you," I murmur. I squeeze his hand. "I have to go, but I'll be back as soon as I can. I promise."

"I'll wait here," Dante says as the corners of his mouth turn up.

I gasp.

"Did you just make a joke?" I ask, more than a little surprised.

"I thought I'd try it. No good?" He ventures.

"No, no, it was actually kind of funny. In a morbid way," I chuckle. "But if I'd ever pictured you having a sense of humor, it would have been like that."

"I usually leave the joking to Derrick. He's got comedy enough for all of us."

"I can well imagine."

"Is he one of the people you need to see today?" He asks suddenly.

"No; none of your brothers are on my list. I only really need to talk to two, but one of them may be hard to track down," I tell him. He looks a little relieved.

"Okay. I'll see you when you get back."

"Yeah, see you soon," I murmur, rising to my feet. I bend to give him a quick kiss goodbye. His lips are warm and soft, like summer wind.

I am reaching for the handle of the main door to the infirmary when it suddenly swings in, pushed open by someone who is apparently in a huge hurry. I let out a warning yelp and leap aside but I'm not fast enough and a tall, male frame collides with me, hard. I stagger backwards, but strong hands reach out and steady me before I can fall. I look up into Four's face.

"Four!" I exclaim.

"Rain…" he says at exactly the same time. I let him continue.

"I need to talk to you. Is Dante still here?" He continues in a low voice.

"Yeah, he's here. Where else would he be?" I am confused. Why is Four looking for me, and why would he think that Dante wasn't in his bed?

"Okay," he hesitates, and seems to consider something for a moment. He shakes his head. "No, you come with me. It'll work better this way."

"What are you talking about, Four? I was also looking for you just now, just so you know." Why is everything always a riddle around here?

"I have a feeling that we have the same issues to address," he replies. "Come with me."

I follow him out of the infirmary.


	24. Chapter 24

Four leads me down the passageway, across the Pit, and up one of the rail-less walkways carved into the walls of the Pit. We reach a door that I've never really noticed before, and he pushes it open. The room beyond is about a third the size of one of the training rooms downstairs, but it seems bigger because it is completely empty except for a single monitoring station, much like the ones used during the aptitude tests, tucked back into the far corner.

"This is where you and the others will be participating in Stage Two. It's called the fear landscape room. I'm guessing that you've already heard something about the details of Stage Two?" He gestures to the empty space around us.

"Yes," I answer. "I heard it involves simulations, like the aptitude test."

"Close enough. I'm glad you know that much. It'll help you be more prepared for it," he answers. He takes a deep breath, then turns to face me, his jaw set. "I can't offer you extra help in this stage like I did last time. In fact, I'm being scrutinized as a trainer for that. See, Harrison is retiring from initiate training this year and he's been grooming me to take his place. Trouble is, I'm supposed to appear impartial to the initiates, and I'm supposed to stick to just the transfers and not get involved with the Dauntless-born. Well, someone either found out or suspects what I was doing for you and Dante. I don't know how, I don't know who, but I'm not putting you two on the chopping block. What I am going to ask is for you two to cool it for now. At least until Stage Two is done. If you don't, it's going to end up reflecting very badly on your results."

Not to mention, on his future as an instructor. But he doesn't say it, not to me: Four's got too much class for that.

"What exactly do you suggest?" I ask carefully. I'm dreading the answer that I think is coming.

"Just keep your distance. Focus on training instead of each other," he holds up a hand when I start to protest. "Trust me, I know what I'm asking of you two and I know it's not going to be easy. But I'd hate to see you fail now, Rain. I know how hard you worked before and I know how good you've been getting lately. You have got to get through Stage Two, and keeping your distance from Dante is going to be the best way to achieve that. I know that what happened to him is going to make it even harder for you. But you have _got to trust me on this._"

His emphasis on those last words tells me that there is more to this than he's telling me, but I also know that, no matter how I pry, he's not going to tell me directly. It's another thing that I'm going to have to figure out on my own.

I don't want to do this, what he's asking me to do. I nearly lost Dante a few days ago; the last thing I'm ready to do right now is to let go of him. But this is _Four _who is asking me to do this, and for a reason that he seems to believe is of extreme importance. If it was anyone else in the world asking, I would flat-out refuse. Even so, I am extremely reluctant, but I trust Four.

"I understand," I answer flatly, "and I'll do what you're asking, but first I want to ask you something. And I want you to tell me the truth."

Four regards me for a moment, his deep blue eyes probing mine. A few weeks ago, I would have looked away from a gaze that intense. Not anymore.

"Okay," he says, his tone neutral. "Ask."

I take a deep breath.

"What was the real reason you asked Dante to help me with training sessions during Stage One?" I blurt out.

"I thought it was obvious," Four blinks rapidly a few times.

"I'm not talking about why you set up the training sessions, Four. I'm asking why you specifically chose Dante instead of someone who was a better fit for me, like Erica…" her name catches in my throat.

Four crosses his arms and looks at the floor, nodding his head slightly.

"I was waiting for one of you to figure that out," he replies a moment later. "I don't know Dante all that well, but I do know his brother Derrick. He's worked off and on in surveillance with me. Their family is an anomaly, in the fact that they are a large family and they all stayed in Dauntless. They were a little worried about Dante defecting. He didn't, of course, but they all know how being social can really give you a boost during initiation. Dante was having problems with that, and Derrick asked me if I could give him a push if the opportunity came up. It just so happened that you needed a boost, too. You needed combat skills and he needed social skills. It was a perfect match. The fact that it became more than that was something I wasn't overlooking, but I kind of hoped it wouldn't happen."

"You hoped it wouldn't happen, but you left us alone together," I point out.

"Because I trusted you both to be smart enough not to let it go too far. But you're getting to that, and that's not a good thing while you're still initiates."

"Then blame Spencer," I reply hotly. If Spencer hadn't shot Dante, I wouldn't have been scared that I could lose him at any moment and thus spend every free second I had at his side.

"Blame a dead kid who was too weak to handle Dauntless life? Yeah, a lot of good that will do you," Four shoots back. Ouch.

"All right," I sigh resignedly. "I'll go see Dante tonight and tell him what you told me…"

"No," Four shakes his head. "That's not going to work. Agreeing to back off of each other because your instructor ordered it is not going to look good. You need to be more focused on your training than you are on each other. That won't happen if you just come to an agreement."

_Now _I understand.

"You're asking me to break things off with Dante," I say flatly.

"For now. To get through Stage Two. If things work out, you can try again after the final test," Four is looking at me intently again. I look away.

"I see."

"You agreed."

"I know." I still refuse to look at Four. He is silent for several moments, but I can feel his eyes burning into me.

"Trust me," he says quietly, then turns on his heel and walks to the door. He pauses and holds it open. "Don't you have somewhere to be?"

I don't give him the satisfaction of an answer, I just fume out of the room, giving his toes a good stomp as I pass him. He says nothing, but I can still feel his eyes on my retreating back.

I decide I need to cool off before I go see Carla. Working out will only get me more stirred up, and seeing Dante will only make what I have to do harder. Plus, I definitely want Carla's take on what Four has advised. I have a sneaking suspicion that she will agree with him on a certain level, but if anyone will know how to make it look like I've done what Four asked without actually doing it, it will be Carla.

I go back to my dorm, hoping for a quiet place to think for a while. I push the door open and find Nicole sitting on her bed, reading something on an electronic tablet.

"News?" I ask, nodding at the tablet

"Yeah," she replies, waving the tablet in the air. "I think it was Leah's. She kept it under her mattress. My new bed is her old one. That's how I found it." She glances up at me.

"You look upset. Is everything okay?" She asks, frowning.

"Not really," I say. "But I will be. I just have some… concerns about Stage Two."

"You have them? Or you have them because of Dante?"

"A little of both, maybe. Myself, more, I think," I pause. This is getting awkward. "It's complicated." I dismiss the topic with a wave of my hand. "Anyway, how are things with you and Joseph?"

Nicole blushes, and sets the tablet down beside her. She folds her hands and presses them into her lap. She gazes down at them, smiling.

"We're good. I'm happy, probably for the first time since the aptitude test. Joseph makes me feel good about my choice to leave my family," she says in her soft, light voice. Nicole sounds nothing like what she looks like; she is tall and strong with white-blonde hair that she recently cut into a pixie bob that suits her beautifully. Her voice, however, sounds like a little girl's.

"I'm happy for you," I say, sitting down beside her. "I'm glad that you found someone that makes you happy. You've all been so nice to me, and it's good to see that good things are happening to you all."

"Oh, I know!" she exclaims suddenly, wide-eyed. "Did you see Nate and Jacqueline the other day? I had no idea that they even knew each other!"

"I suppose our little roof-top party built our camaraderie with the Dauntless-born even better than intended," I reply, giving her a wink. "I do want to hear about how they met and everything, though. I think you, Jacqueline, and I need a girl's night out pretty soon."

"Ooh, that would be fun!" Nicole seems almost giddy about the idea. I guess the Candor gift of gab never really leaves those who were born there.

"We'll do it soon, then. I'll ask Jacqueline next time I see her, or you can ask her if you see her first," I say, picking up the tablet that she discarded between us.

"What's in the news, anyway?"

"Oh just more stuff about Abnegation and accusations of their corruption," she tells me. "It seems like pretty weak accusations, no proof to back any of it up. Besides, how can an entire faction be corrupt? I don't get it."

"Me neither," I reply, frowning as I skim the story in question. I recognize one of the names mentioned: Marcus Eaton. He is the leader of Abnegation, and he holds the highest position in the city's government. I don't read the details. I have problems of my own that I have to address.

"Well, Nicole, I have someone I have to meet," I tell her as I rise from the bed and hand the tablet back. "I'll see you at lunch?"

"Yeah, see you then!" She waves to me, becoming absorbed again in her reading.

I feel more centered now, so I head right for Carla's place next to the tattoo parlor. Three Dauntless girls, maybe a year or two older than me, are leaving as I enter. Carla is at the counter, smiling at me as I walk through the door.

"Hi again, Rain! You're not here to do more shopping, are you?" she asks cheerfully, teasing.

"No, actually," I confess, "I came to ask you something."

"I'm all ears," her smile widens.

"It's not exactly something I want to be made public knowledge," I say, lowering my voice as I reach the counter.

"Gotcha. Let me get my assistant to watch the store," she retreats to the back room, returning a moment later with a needle of a young man with spiky black hair and an overly large nose.

"This is Sy," she says, gesturing to him. "Sy, this is Rain. Keep an eye on things while she and I go in the back and talk, will you?"

Sy nods, and assumes a bored expression as he walks to a rack of clothes and begins straightening it. Carla motions for me to follow her into the back room.

"Make yourself comfortable," she says, gesturing to a black velvet couch. She retrieves two cups of water and sets them down on the table. I take a seat, and she joins me a moment later.

"Okay, shoot."

"It's about Dante," I begin. A sparkle in her eyes tells me that she already knew this. "I'm worried about him during Stage Two. See, we've talked about it, and he has some… really bad fears. I worry what might happen to him if they… are too much for him right now."

"Any details about what these fears are?" she asks.

"I'm kind of sworn to secrecy on that," I say, trying to look more embarrassed than frightened. I hate the idea of deceiving Carla, but I can't just tell her what's really going on.

"Well, I suppose I can understand that," she nods, folding her hands around her knees.

"Also, I talked to Four today. He said he thinks that Dante and I are getting too close, considering we are both still initiates," I tell her. "He wants me to back off, to stop seeing Dante during Stage Two. But I don't know; Dante needs me. I promised Dante first that I would help him, way before I talked to Four. I know that there must be some way that I can help him, there has to be. I'm just… having trouble putting my finger on it."

"Hmm," Clara narrows her eyes pensively, looking off into the distance for a few moments. At length she turns to me and asks me a very abrupt, unexpected question.

"Where do you see the two of you in a year's time?"

This throws me off. I haven't really thought much about the long term of what has become Rain and Dante: the couple.

"I suppose," I say, stalling for a moment, "that in a year, he will be working with Dale in defensive weaponry. I would rather be doing something outside, like maybe fence patrol."

"I don't mean employment-wise, I mean as a couple. Considering what Four advised. Do you think you'll still be together? Do you want to be?"

"Yes, of course. I want to be with Dante all the time. Sometimes it's hard just to leave him for the night, even knowing that I can come back first thing in the morning," I confess. Talking to Carla is so easy. It's like having an older sister.

"Well, I don't know if he's told you yet, but he feels the same way about you," she says, leaning closer to me. "Dale tells me everything, you know. And his brothers tell _him _everything."

"Well, yeah, Dante told me… he told me that he loves me," I feel heat in my ears. "He told me a while ago, actually."

"And?" Carla presses.

"And… yes, I love him too. I don't know when it happened, but I knew today that this is how I feel about him," I exhale. "Is that weird? I mean, I still know almost nothing about him, but I'm sure that I'm in love with him."

"No, it's really not that weird," she laughs. "To be honest, Dale was more than a little like Dante when we first met. He was withdrawn and shy, and not very social. It took me a long time to get to know him, and I was in love with him long before I know as much as I do now."

"So… do you have any suggestions? As far as helping Dante in Stage Two?" I ask.

She is quiet for a moment, scanning me with her eyes as though she is searching for the answer in my physique.

"One thing about Dante: he doesn't lie, and he doesn't say something if he isn't committed to his words. So you can believe that if he told you that he loves you, then he truly means that," she says, her voice taking on a more serious tone.

"I'll make sure I remember that," I assure her.

"I'm not asking you to remember that, I'm telling you to use it. I suspect that you have a lot of leverage in regards to what he does and how he thinks. He's… distracted by you, and that's putting it mildly."

"How will being distracted by me help him in Stage Two?" I ask. This is just great: even more riddles.

"Use it against him. He said he told you his worst fear, right?" She asks.

"Yes."

She shakes her head.

"I don't think he even knows what his worst fear is," she says, eyes meeting mine in a suddenly stony stare.

It comes to me in a rush, and I know exactly what I must do. It may be the hardest thing I have ever faced in my life, including the prospect of facing my own fears, but if Dante is going to survive, if he is going to dodge detection of his biggest secret, he will have to gain an entirely new fear. And I am going to play a big role in this one.

My comprehension must show in my face, because Carla nods.

"You _have_ to do it, Rain. I know it won't be easy for you, and it may be even harder for him… but that's kind of the point, isn't it?"

"It is," I agree. I am at war with myself, but grateful for Carla's advice. "Thank you. I think. But… I should go now."

I rise, and Carla follows me. At the door, she reaches out and catches my hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze.

"Stay strong, be brave, and it will all work out in the end," she says. She releases my hand.

"Thank you. I'll do the best I can," I assure her.

As I leave the shop, I consider Carla's insight and advice. I wonder if that was also Four's underlying message. I have become the single most important aspect of Dante's life, just as he has become mine. And I have to threaten that; I have to make him believe that he could lose me. That will undoubtedly change his fear landscape, hopefully enough to save his life.


	25. Chapter 25

I do not want to do this. I don't want to lie to Dante, to deceive him. As I walk slowly back toward the infirmary, I try to think of some way around this. But the more I consider Dante as a person, the more I see that there is no other way. Carla and Four are right: I must do this thing, and I must do it with enough conviction that Dante believes it. The ironic thing is, neither of them realize just how important it is that I go through with this. They both think that they know, yes: Four believes that Dante and I have become too close, too serious about our relationship since his mishap. He feels that our relationship will interfere with our scores in Stage Two. Carla knows that Dante has a fear that is so terrible that it could put his life in jeopardy. She doesn't understand that it's not a reaction to the fear that is the threat, but the revelation of the fear itself to the test administrators.

Knowing the truth does not make the task ahead of me any easier. I'm practically dragging my feet when I reach the infirmary. But by this point, despite my loathing, I have decided how I will do this.

It is midafternoon when I arrive back, having stopped off in the Pit for some lunch that I did little more than pick at. The nurse on duty is the familiar Kylie. I try to look cheerful when I wave to her after she acknowledges me and waves me toward Dante's ward, but my smile is stiff and does not come easily.

Dante is resting when I finally reach his bed, his eyes closed. I watch him for a few moments, knowing that this will be the last quiet, peaceful time that I can spend in his presence for a long time. I hope that, when this is all over, that I can make him see, that he will understand, and that he will forgive me.

I hope one day that we can be something close to what we are now.

He opens his eyes when I sit down in the chair beside his bed.

He turns his head to face me.

His eyes are alight with hope.

My heart breaks.

"Hello, beautiful," he murmurs. Tears well in my eyes, and he sees them. "Hey, what is it?"

He reached for me. I deliberately recoil. He looks confused.

"Don't, Dante," I say quietly, my voice quivering.

"Rain, what's wrong?" He asks, making a second attempt to reach for me. I bolt from my seat to beyond his reach.

"Don't touch me, Dante," I hiss through clenched teeth, as the tears begin to spill down my face. I can't believe I'm doing this. "Don't touch me, and don't come near me. I can't believe you kept something like this from me for so long. I thought we trusted each other. I thought you _loved _me."

"Rain, no, I do!" he protests. He looks frightened now, on top of confused. Good.

I feel horrible.

"No, Dante. You don't. If you did, you would have told me about this right away. Maybe then I could have helped. Maybe I would have wanted to. But now… you leave it til _now_ to tell me? Now, after I lost my best friend? After I tried so hard to save someone who ended up dying anyway? You think I don't have enough problems of my own? That you can just dump something like this on me now, at the last second, and expect me to hold your hand?" I am nearly shouting.

I hear Kylie call down the ward, asking if we are okay. I hear her shoes clicking on the concrete floor as she rushes toward us.

We are definitely _not _okay.

"Rain… no… please…" Dante sounds near panic, the desperation and confusion clear on his face.

"I don't want to hear it. You're on your own. I have my own self to worry about; I can't bear the burden of your problems while I'm dealing with all of my own." I stifle a sob and turn to leave just as Kylie reaches us. I dodge around her, and never even glance back at Dante.

I can hear him calling out my name, asking me to wait, his voice becoming more ragged as his helplessness to stop me is realized, until the infirmary door slams shut behind me. I keep walking; I keep sobbing.

I need to be alone somewhere. Preferably somewhere dark and soundproof where I can scream and wail and no one will ever hear me. There is no place like that in the Dauntess compound that I know of, but I do know a place where I can hide my tears.

I take off at a run, heading for the shower room beside my dorm. It's midafternoon, and people usually only use them in the morning or right before dinner. I am crying and sobbing uncontrollably when I reach it, and am more grateful than I've ever been for anything when I find that it is in fact deserted.

I have brought neither a towel nor a change of clothes with me, but right now I don't care. I don't even bother to undress. I turn the water on full blast and stand under the torrent. I know it is probably just wishful thinking, but I hope the sound of the running water is obliterating the low, moaning howls that are resonating from my chest to my throat to my mouth.

This is the worst thing that I have ever done to someone in my life. This is the ultimate betrayal. Just a few hours ago, I was a pillar of strength: I told Dante to trust me, promised him that I would do all I could to help him, and returned to him with words of anger and abandonment. _I have hurt him_.

I tell myself that I did it for his benefit. That by believing he's losing me it will trigger a greater fear in his mind than the one he believes to be his greatest. From the look on his face as I was leaving, I believe that I have succeeded. I tell myself that it had to be done because Four ordered it and Carla told me that it would be for the best, and logically it makes sense, considering what Dante would be facing if I hadn't. I tell myself that I have done this in order to save his life.

But it does not change the fact that I have hurt him, and that I may have done irreparable damage to Dante, who is already socially unstable and has some serious trust issues. He had just placed a huge amount of trust in me with a single confession, and now he believes that I have set that confidence aside for my own selfish means.

I assure myself that someday, when we are both safely through Stage Two, that I will be able to tell him the truth. I hope that he will understand why I did what I did, even though it was the last thing I wanted to do to him. I never wanted to lie to him, and I never, ever wanted to hurt him. Now, in one move, I have done both.

For this I will never, ever be able to forgive myself.

And if Dante can't either, I will have to live with that.

But that does not change the fact that I do love him. That I will always love him. That everything I have done, and every moment of pain that this has brought and will bring over the duration of Stage Two, will all be because I love him.


	26. Chapter 26

But it's not enough. I repeat it over and over in my head:

_You're doing this to save his life._

And, yes, when put to the choice, I'd rather live without him in my life than to watch him die.

But I am selfish. Love does that to a person, or at least it's done it to me. I want Dante in my life, I want to be near him, I want to feel him wrap his arms around me, I want to see the fire in his eyes when he looks at me, I want to hear the rhythm of his breathing as we sit together in one of our comfortable silences. _I want…_

But now, right now…

Somehow I must make it through the rest of my day. I finally turn off the water in the shower when I realize that it's gone ice cold. I strip down and wring out my clothes as best I can; I put them back on (still damp) and slog down the hall to the dorms. All of my fellow transfers are there, sitting in a group on the floor, talking in nervous or excited voices about the imminent Stage Two. I walk past them, ignoring their greetings. Eyes follow me, but I don't care. I strip down again, right in front of everyone- I really do not care- and put on dry clothes.

It's Joseph and Nicole who approach me first.

"Rain," Nicole says gently as she reaches for my shoulder, "you look awful. Is everything all right?"

I shake my head. I feel tears coming again.

"What happened?" Nicole's voice rises in pitch slightly. "Is it…"

"Don't say his name," I cut her off, my voice coming out an angry growl. She recoils with a gasp, and suddenly the entire room goes completely silent. I glare into each wide-eyed face, tears brimming in the corners of my eyes.

"Just… I don't even want to hear about him. I don't want to talk about him. If you want to know what happened, you can ask him tomorrow when Stage Two starts. That's all I'm saying on the subject." Each of my words is clipped and terse. I have never spoken like this to anyone, much less to a roomful of people.

One by one, their eyes turn away from mine and to each other's. To call the silence that follows awkward would be a gross understatement. The tension in the air is like a living thing; an exposed electrical wire, sparking and sizzling.

Nate is the first to rise, and he beckons to Nicole and Joseph, who follow him out the door into the hallway beyond. Nate holds the door for them as I watch from the perch on the edge of my bed. I see him glance back and give his head the smallest shake as he releases the door and lets it swing shut, leaving me to wallow in my misery.

I didn't really want them to leave. I didn't think I wanted to be alone, but when they're gone I feel some of the weight lift from my shoulders. I wish I could say that I felt better about it, but I actually feel worse. I have not only deceived Dante into believing that I think he's weak and a burden to me. I have also lied to my friends who have gone out of their way to be nothing but kind and selfless to me over the last few days. But at least they left, so I don't have to keep up the charade for long.

I am starting to hate myself. I don't know how I will get through the next few weeks of this, if every day is going to be like today. I don't know how I'm going to live with myself if Dante can't forgive me after all is said and done.

Or if this doesn't work, and he dies.

Or if he's not strong enough for the simulations, and he dies.

I throw myself face down on my bed. I want to cry again, but the tears won't come. It's as though my shower washed them all away, but left the grief and guilt behind, consuming my heart. I want to sleep but I know if I do that now, I'll be awake most of the night in agony. Not that that's not likely to be the case, anyway.

I lie there for I don't even know how long before my stomach rumbles; a sure sign that dinner will soon be served out in the Pit. I get up slowly because my body feels like it weighs about twice as much as usual. My hair is still damp, and as a result so is the collar of my shirt. I pick at it a little, trying to move the air through it to get it to dry. I comb back my hair and twist it into a braid, checking my reflection in the mirror inside a cabinet near the door. My eyes have dark circles under them and I'm wearing a very unattractive scowl. I have braided my hair a little too tightly, pulling it back hard from my scalp and eliminating any trace of its waviness. I look thoroughly unapproachable. Lovely.

It's a good thing that my feet know the way to the Pit because my mind is doing anything but focusing on getting there. As predicted, the dinner scene is mayhem- all noise and activity. I have arrived just as the food is being delivered to the tables and people are jockeying for seats. I start heading in the direction of my usual table with the other initiates, just sort of moving on autopilot. My eyes focus on my surroundings when I'm about fifteen feet from it, and I stop dead.

Sitting at the table across from Nate, in my usual seat, is Dante. He is dressed in black warm-ups that look exactly like the ones he used to wear during our private training sessions, but I note immediately that there is something different about him tonight. I take a few steps back, slowly, so I don't draw attention to myself. I catch glimpses of him through the throng of people moving back and forth between the tables.

His posture is all wrong: he usually sits very straight, with only his head bowed slightly as he avoids eye contact. Tonight his shoulders are hunched and his back is rounded. I am standing slightly behind him so I can't see his face, but I do see the other thing that is very drastically different: he has cut his hair. Not a lot, but enough. It used to reach well past the middle of his back when pulled back in its usual ponytail, which is how he's wearing it tonight, but now it ends at the middle of his shoulder blades. I remember how gorgeous it looked just a few hours ago, fanned out in a slightly tangled halo around his head as he lay with his eyes closed in his bed in the infirmary. I wonder if they have let him return to the dorms until I spot the nurse hovering nearby, keeping a watchful eye on Dante. I assume then that he'll be reintroduced to normal Dauntless activities slowly over the next few days, starting with meals.

I find myself at a quandary as far as what to do during mealtime. By now I'm sure that word of our split has become public knowledge within the initiates' circle, so I'm not exactly eager to just go sit down with the rest of them and act like nothing's wrong. On the other hand, I don't want to look like a coward who's running from the situation.

Relief comes in the form of Four's voice from behind me. He calls my name in a low voice, and I turn to see him standing near the table where he usually sits with his friend, Zeke. Four is not looking at me when I turn; he is looking at Dante. A few seconds later, his gaze shifts to me, questioning. I nod, and he beckons me over. I walk mechanically toward his table. Sitting with Four may end up being just as awkward as sitting with the other initiates: I'd be in full view of not only all of the initiates, but also of Eric and Max and the other Dauntless leaders at the front table.

"You all right?" Four asks me when I reach him.

"As 'all right' as I can be, considering," I reply. He nods.

"You did the right thing. Trust me. You'll both be better off for it in the end, you'll see," he tries to reassure me. I just look at the ground and nod.

"Look, I know it must be hard. I'm not going to make you go sit with them tonight, but you will want to eat to keep your strength up for tomorrow," he says, bending his head down toward me so no one else can hear him. "Do you know where the double doors are to the kitchens?"

I nod.

"Good. Go to the second door and stick your head in. A big guy will yell at you to leave; that's Anthony," Four nods to me in reassurance. "Tell him I told you to come and get some dinner. He's a good guy, even though he looks intimidating. He'll get you something. You can go eat somewhere else tonight, if that'll make you feel better."

"Okay, thanks. Yeah, that'll help," I say, and start toward the kitchens. I take two steps and turn back. Four is taking a seat next to Zeke, acting like everything is normal and life is peachy. He would have failed miserably in Candor, too.

Anthony, a huge guy with more tattoos than bare skin, provides me with a healthy serving of mashed potatoes, corn, and some kind of dish made with ground beef, onions, and tomato sauce. He yells at first, just as Four said he would, but when he hands me my meal in a covered container, he pats me on the shoulder and smiles, telling me (in a quieter voice) to drop off the plate anytime after dinner. I thank him and head for the staircase.

I end up eating my dinner sitting cross-legged on the floor beside the net, watching the light fade from the sky through the hole above. I can't help but think back to the night of Visiting Day, when Dante and I lay in the net looking up at the stars. I remember how comfortable I'd felt with him that night: just being near each other, not talking much, looking up at the stars and enjoying everything about each moment we were together. What I wouldn't give to have that night back.

The food is hot, it tastes good, and it's very filling. I start to feel a little more optimistic after I eat it. I still feel awful about my deception, and I'm still afraid that things won't work out in the end, but I am starting to accept that what I've done now can't be undone, and I do have other things that I will need to focus on very soon. Maybe it's time that I started doing that.

I return the plate to Anthony when I'm done eating, giving him my thanks and compliments on a delicious meal. Not wanting to go back to the dorms just yet, I start wandering up and down randomly selected corridors and walkways along the Pit. I eventually find myself at the tattoo parlor, which, in a rare moment, is not insanely busy. There is only one person there actually getting a tattoo; the other two artists are sitting on one of the couches engaged in light conversation, apparently just waiting for work. I feel their eyes on me as I walk along the walls, looking at the artwork on offer.

The image of the horse catches my eye. It's a smaller piece, tucked into a high corner where not many would notice it. But as soon as I see it, I think it's magnificent: the arched neck, the powerful legs, the flowing mane and tail: I remember the power of the two massive animals that pulled our plow late one spring, perhaps in another life. I remember how free I felt, riding atop that plow, and how brave I'd felt when I patted those horses, whose heads were about the size of my torso now.

I remember why I chose Dauntless.

Tomorrow, I vow, I will pull myself back up. I will eat my meals with the other initiates, despite Dante's presence. I will put everything I have into doing the best I can during Stage Two, and spend as much of my free time as I can in the training rooms keeping myself fit and sharp.

The tattoo costs only one point, seeing as it's a smaller one. A few hours later, the inked image of that horse is galloping down the inside of my forearm and I decide that it's time to head back to my dorm. It's not terribly late, but I want to give myself as much of a chance to sleep as possible before commencing with Stage Two in the morning. I find that I am not alone in this when I reach the dorms; everyone else is already in bed. The light above the door indicates that it's not yet curfew, but I stick to my plan and climb into my bed. The tattoo still stings and I'm anxious about tomorrow, which I know does not make a good mix when trying to fall asleep. But somehow I do- just as my mind turns to Dante, wondering if he will be able to sleep tonight.

I dream that we are back on the net, looking up at a star-filled night sky. But instead of lying beside each other as we did before, in my dream we are wrapped around each other, legs and arms tangled together in a comfortable jumble. We don't talk; we just look up at the stars. And even though it is a dream, I am acutely aware of each place where our bodies touch: the warm solidity of Dante's body against mine a familiarity that even my subconscious recognizes.

I am his, and I always will be, no matter what the future brings.


	27. Chapter 27

I wake up still under the illusion that I am in Dante's arms. As consciousness washes away my dream, however, the places where I felt him against me- arms around my shoulders, chest pressed to my forehead, one hand cradling the back of my head, legs entangled- one by one, they lighten as though a weight has been lifted from me, as though it is not sleep removing Dante from me, but Dante himself drawing away…

I open my eyes as I realize that it was just a dream, but I'm still not fully awake. I think I hear the front door close, and I roll over to see who it is that has come or gone. There is, of course, no one there: just my sluggish mind deceiving me. I roll back and press my face to the pillow, wishing I could catch his scent on it, but it smells the same as it always has.

I try to go back to sleep for a few minutes, but I can't because the next clear thought I have is of Stage Two: today is the day we are to be introduced to the simulations that will eventually determine our fear landscapes and, ultimately, our final tests. That thought makes it impossible for me to get back to sleep, so I just lay with my eyes open, not really looking at anything, and just speculating on what today- and the rest of initiation- will hold.

I am also working through the anxiety I have about other aspects of my day: namely eating meals with the other initiates, including Dante. I can only hope that he doesn't try to sit at my usual table again. After a while I determine that the only way to prevent this is to beat him to it. If I get there before he does, I am willing to bet that he won't choose the same table as me. Figuring that there's only one way to find out, I climb out of bed, change into my warm-ups, and head for the Pit. It's still early when I arrive, and breakfast isn't being served yet. About a dozen Dauntless members are hurrying back and forth, setting up the tables we use for meals. For a few minutes I watch from the mouth of the corridor that leads to the dorms, then I wander toward the chasm.

The morning light shines on the railing and the stone floor through the floor of the glass building above. In natural light, it looks less intimidating than when it is illuminated by the harsh artificial lights. The roar of the water below is just as ominous, however. I lean on the railing, thinking back to those first nights that I spent in Dauntless headquarters. I remember watching Dante with his brother here, and getting my first glimpses into the person he is when no one else is around. I miss him. It hasn't even been a full twenty-four hours since the scene I made in the infirmary, but I do miss him. Of course, I can't let that show. I have to continue with this façade of setting him aside for my own selfish reasons. I keep telling myself that it won't be for long, but right now it feels like an eternity. All this wondering, all this uncertainty, all these "what ifs" play themselves out over and over in my mind despite what I deeply need to be focusing on: what lies directly in my path as an initiate.

I sigh deeply, closing my eyes and leaning heavily on my elbows, which are braced against the rail. I listen to the sound of the churning water in the depths of the chasm below, tuning out all other sound. I stand there for a long time just letting my ears fill with the sound of the water, as though it could clear my mind of everything that fights for dominance within it. The constant roar lulls me, relaxes me, and I find myself becoming more able to focus my thoughts. Eventually other sounds creep in, and those I can't ignore: the sounds of trays and plates and silverware being stacked out in preparation of the morning rush.

I am one of the first people to grab a seat, just before breakfast is served. I am unquestionably the first initiate to arrive. I get my usual seat at my usual table, and soon steaming trays of scrambled eggs, fried potatoes, sausage, toast, muffins, and grayish mush that must be oatmeal are placed on the table in front of me. I am helping myself to everything that doesn't have grains in it as the other initiates start filtering in. The Dauntless-born arrive first, followed shortly by the other transfers.

But not Dante.

The others take their seats around me, avoiding eye contact with me and generally ignoring me. I am a bit perturbed by this, so once they have all situated themselves, I greet each one of them by name. They all glance at me; Nate mumbles something that includes my name, but no efforts to make conversation go beyond that.

"What is it, you guys?" I ask, raising my voice as I start to feel the frustration building again. "Yesterday you were all pestering me to know what was wrong, and today you're acting like I have a disease. I told you what was wrong: Dante and I called it quits, okay? It just… things didn't work out. It happens."

There is a pregnant moment of silence from not only the transfers, but also from the Dauntless-born behind us. I become keenly aware that they must all be staring at me.

" 'It happens'?" Nate repeats. "Is that all you have to say? Rain, you broke up with him for, like, no reason."

"It wasn't 'no reason', Nate," I interject. "I had several reasons."

"Yeah, well," a male voice speaks from behind me: Vince. "It's pretty shitty for someone to break up with a guy while he's fighting for his life."

"Vince," I spit his name like venom as I spin around, "you have no idea what happened…."

"Yes I do!" He roars, rising to his feet, pointing at the people with whom I share a table. "We all went to see him after your little explosion in the dorm yesterday. He told us what happened, how you promised that you'd help him with Stage Two, how he trusted you with something, and you came in yesterday and just dropped him like a rock, calling him a burden and all. What the hell, Rain? That's pretty fucked up!"

I shoot out of my seat, taking two strides to cross the distance between our tables. In a flash, the other initiates are on their feet, grabbing at my arms and shoulders, moving to obstruct the path between Vince and me. I fight to get past them. I am furious with Vince; he hears one side of a story- not even a complete one- and he jumps to conclusions about my character. I want to punch him in the mouth until he shuts the hell up.

"Stop!" A stern voice shouts from my left. I glance over and see Four approaching, with Lauren and Eric on his heels. I relent and stop struggling. The hands release some of their grip, but don't let go of me completely. My breath is coming in ragged bursts, strands of my hair that have come loose from my braid dangling in my face as I turn my eyes back to Vince. I glare, unblinking, into his face.

"You have," I say slowly, trying to keep the anger from my voice without diminishing the severity of my words, "_no idea _why I did what I did. You don't know what I've been through; you couldn't begin to imagine how hard this has been. Just dealing with everything, dealing with Dante, it would have just gotten in the way of training. It's hard enough for me as it is, without dragging around his problems, too…" My words trail off as I catch movement in the peripherals of my left eye and glance in that direction.

I tear my eyes from Vince's and feel my scowl melt away in horror.

Behind the crowd that has gathered in curiosity over the commotion, Dante has entered the Pit with a nurse in tow. He is walking slowly, his shoulders drooping, his back hunched, but his head is raised.

And he's looking right at me. He's heard every word I said.

I turn back to Vince.

"Whatever. Think what you want. I did what I did because I need to get through Stage Two. And so does he," I wave my hand in Dante's direction, but I don't look at him again.

I turn and go back to my seat, forcing myself to consume my breakfast even though I have no appetite to speak of. There is very little banter this morning, and most of it is not directed at me.

After breakfast, I head for the showers. I want to scrub away this feeling. I keep thinking about what Vince said: about how horrible I am to break up with a guy when he's in the hospital. I know how it must look to everyone. I just hope that there are some here who know me better than that; who know that I would not do something so cruel without ulterior motives.

We reconvene an hour after breakfast in a hallway about three levels above the Pit floor that leads to a single, closed door. The hallway is dimly lit and barren, so we sit on the floor. I am not the first to arrive, and I am surprised though not terribly pleased to see that the transfers and Dauntless-born are both present. So far, just Jacqueline, Reece, and Henry have arrived and are sitting to the left of the door. I am the last of the transfers to arrive; I take a seat next to Nicole on the right side of the door. She offers me a strained smile. I can't tell if she's nervous or if she's uncomfortable with me in light of recent events. I smile back, trying to make it look genuine.

Things get particularly strained when Dante arrives with one of his doctors. An anxious hush falls over the crowd, and I feel everyone's eyes darting back and forth between Dante and I. I ignore them. I ignore Dante.

Fortunately, the tension is broken shortly by the arrival of Four. He briefly explains to us that we are beginning Stage Two now, and that we will be using the next two weeks to prepare ourselves for our final test, in which we will face a full-blown fear landscape of our own creation. He then explains that because each initiate is handled individually, the transfers and Dauntless-born will be training together in this stage.

_That's just great, Four, _I think to myself. _Thanks for the heads-up on that one before I made things super awkward between Dante and I._

He goes on to explain that we will enter the room at the end of the hall in ranking order from last to first, starting with the Dauntless-born. That means, at one point, Dante will be the only Dauntless-born in the hallway with us. My day just keeps getting worse.

When that time comes, I find that I don't have as much to worry about as far as atmospheric tension goes: Dante's doctor is talking to him most of the time, telling him about the special monitoring they'll be doing during his session; how they'll be prepared to pull him out of the simulation if it gets too difficult for him physically. He nods and mumbles his accordance with everything. About ten minutes later, Four opens the door to let Jacqueline out. She looks pale and distraught, and she walks slowly back toward the dorms. Nate watches her go with a worried expression.

Four beckons Dante and the doctor inside, and the door closes with an audible click that echoes through the empty stone hallway. I glance at the clock on the wall above the door, noting the time that Dante entered the room. The rest of us fall into a tense silence. We can hear the muffled voices of those on the other side of the door. They speak for about a minute, then lapse into silence.

One minute passes. There is still silence.

Two minutes, and I hear a low moan, undeniably Dante's.

I close my eyes.

About another minute, and I hear the doctor make a comment, to which Four replies in a steady voice. I open my eyes again and train them on the clock.

Four minutes, and Dante moans again, louder. This time, Four speaks immediately. The doctor replies (I hope that I am just imagining the edge of uneasiness in his voice), and the silence returns.

Five minutes, six minutes, seven.

A shout. I think it's Dante's.

The doctor asks a question and Four replies, his voice still steady.

Then I hear Dante's voice speaking. He sounds a little short of breath, and his voice is strained, but everything seems to be okay. Involuntarily, I sigh. At the sound, Nicole turns to me, her look quizzical. I lean my head back against the wall and feel my shoulders drop. Nicole sees all these things, and she raises an eyebrow at me, her eyes widening.

I realize suddenly that my reaction to Dante's voice has completely given me away to her: she did come from Candor, after all, and she would know how to read body language when looking to distinguish between truth and falsehood. I catch her eye and hold it, giving her a meaningful look. I give her a small, slow shake of my head, asking her to please keep this between us. She smiles again, this time genuinely. With a nod, she turns her attention back to the door at the end of the hall.

A moment later, the doctor pushes open the door and Dante walks out. He is a shadow of his usual self, walking slowly with his shoulders and back hunched, his head down. I avert my eyes until he is well past me. I don't think he even glanced in my direction, either. This is good, I think. It's better this way.

…For now.

Four emerges from the room a moment later and calls my name. I was totally unprepared, but seeing as I was the lowest-ranking transfer initiate who actually made the cut in Stage One, I should have realized that my turn would come right after the top-ranked Dauntless-born initiate.

I stand up and follow Four into the room beyond the door. It looks like a smaller version of the one in which I took my aptitude test: same chair, similar monitoring computer, but no mirrors. I take a seat, and something about the chair triggers something in my mind that makes me recall my dream last night: the pressure of Dante's body against mine, the tickle of his hair across my face and shoulders; how it all seemed so real at the time.

Four is telling me something about an injection and transmitters and setting programs to record my reactions, but I'm only half listening. As I settle back into the chair, I realize what triggered the memory of my dream. Traces of Dante's body heat are still in the cushioned surface of the chair, and when I turn my head to the side, I catch the familiar scent of his hair. My heart skips a beat, and then a twinge of longing sets in. I wish I could be with him right now.

"Are you ready?" Four asks me as he picks up a formidable syringe with a long needle at its tip. I swallow hard. I'm petrified, but I nod anyway. Four guides the needle into the side of my neck and depresses the plunger. It doesn't hurt exactly, but it is not comfortable.

"Be brave," Four says quietly. "It will get easier with time."

I close my eyes and wonder if he's talking about the simulation or being in Dante's presence.


	28. Chapter 28

I open my eyes to find myself sitting on the floor of a white room. Everything is a perfect, even whiteness: walls, ceiling, floor. There are no light fixtures anywhere but the room is bathed in fluorescent white light.

I am alone.

I stand up and walk toward one of the walls. This is how I discover that the room is much larger than it looks. Because everything is a uniform white, my depth perception is thrown off. It feels like I am walking for a long, long time before I reach the wall. I place my hand on its smooth surface and turn back to see where I'd been, but of course it's impossible for me to pinpoint the exact location. I walk back, crossing the room toward the opposite wall. It takes even longer to reach it, so I can assume that I did not start in the center of the room.

When I reach the second wall, I reach out and touch it, just like I did the first one. That's when I hear the noise behind me. I turn, and in what I assume is the corner I see a figure of a young woman. Something about her is familiar, and that gives me pause. Her presence makes me uneasy. How did she get in here? Is there a door near the corner that I somehow didn't see when I first looked around the room? I look behind her, but I see no knob, handle, or frame to indicate an entryway.

Her distance from me gives a better perspective on the size of the room, and it is formidable. I am just beginning to notice certain features about the girl when I hear another sound behind me. I turn again, and find that there are two more people in the room with me. The strange thing is, they look identical to the first one. I turn back to her, and see that not only have three more joined her, there are two more in the adjacent corner which was empty just seconds ago. I turn to the only corner that remains. Four more identical figures now stand there. Every single person is facing me.

All of them begin walking slowly toward me in unison. Their movement is not initially menacing, but something about it is unsettling. There is something very, very familiar about them, but I can't quite pinpoint it. They are all dressed identically, in red skirts that reach their ankles and yellow parkas with the hoods drawn up over their heads, concealing their faces. Every single one of them is of the same height and the same build…

…and that's when I realize what's set me on edge: they _are_ me! They are exactly what I would be if I was still in Amity.

"No…" I say, trying to sound stern, but my voice wavers at the end of the word and they just keep coming. The worst part is, as they get closer, more of them appear behind them. All identical, all just like me.

"No!" I say again, louder. The closest ones are close enough to reach out and touch me. I can't back away from them; I'll run into the ones behind me. I can't fight them; there are too many.

As a unit, they all reach up and drop their hoods, revealing their faces.

Auburn hair in a single braid; slightly coarse brow lines; long, slender necks: they are all exact mirror images of myself…

…Except for their eyes. Instead of green irises surrounding a black pupil, their eyes are completely white.

"I'm Lorraine," one of them says as she reaches out her arms, as though to embrace me. I take a step back.

"I'm Lorraine," says the one I run into in my retreat.

"I'm Lorraine." "I'm Lorraine." "I'm Lorraine."

It becomes a cacophony of my voice, each struggling to be heard over the others as they press closer and closer, and begin to crush against me. Dozens of arms encircle me; hands reach for my head, my face, and my arms.

"NO!" I scream this time. I try to fight them off, but there are too many. They are overpowering me, bearing me down to the floor. I am doing my best to kick out, to pull my arms and legs free so I can fight, but they are on top of me now, crushing the air from my lungs…

I sit up suddenly, sobbing, as the weight of the bodies vanishes all at once. The air is cool against the exposed skin of my face, my neck, and my arms. I am gasping for breath between my sobs. My body shakes uncontrollably. A strong hand grasps my shoulder. Involuntarily I strike it, knocking it away.

"Rain," says a steady male voice, "it's okay; it's over."

"W-what?" I stammer. I swallow hard. My throat is dry and scratchy; swallowing hurts.

"It's over," the voice repeats. I know this voice; it's Four.

I open my eyes. My cheeks are damp from tears. I look toward the sound of the voice.

He is looking down at me, expressionless. I am back in the chair, but my arms are wrapped around my legs and my knees are drawn up to my chest. On the computer screen behind him, the words "Simulation Complete" flash, over my time: 8:58. Almost nine minutes.

Not as fast as Dante's.

I don't know what to say, so I just stare at Four as I try to catch my breath and stop the shaking.

"That," he says after a while, "was actually pretty good."

"What?" I ask again. "What was good? I don't understand what that was. There were like, a hundred of me. Does that mean that I'm afraid of myself?"

"No," Four replies, returning to the computer screen. He touches the screen a few times, saving my simulation data. "That is one that we don't see often, but it generally manifests itself in a similar way in the fear landscapes of people who have it," he explains.

"Oh, that's helpful," I snort sarcastically. The corners of his mouth turn up a little.

"You're afraid of losing your identity, or your sense of self," he says plainly.

"Oh," I swallow again and look down and my boots. "It seems like a stupid thing to be afraid of."

"It's not," he counters. "It ties in closely with self-preservation, and self-preservation has its place. I mean, as a member of Dauntless. It's hard to protect other people if you have no desire to protect yourself. Understand?"

I nod. He's right, of course, as usual.

"Good," he finishes his work at the computer. "You can go. And you did fine; don't worry. It'll get easier from here."

I can't believe I have to do this again.

I walk out of the room and past Nicole, Nate, and Joseph. I vaguely hear Four call Joseph's name next. I keep walking.

I decide that I should probably go back to the dorm for a while, to rest and try to regain my wits. I have a little while before lunch; maybe it's enough time to run a few laps in the training room, or climb a few walls with Jane and her friends. I just want to feel like myself again.

When I turn the corner at the end of the hallway, I am not paying any attention to my surroundings and I run directly into someone who is walking toward me. I try to apologize and move out of their way, but a large, strong hand wraps around my arm, right where it meets my shoulder. I am pulled roughly against the wall and jostled from my trance. Startled, I look up into the face of the person gripping me.

It's Dante's older brother, Dameon. He does not look happy to see me.

"You're coming with me. Right. Now." His voice is low and menacing, spoken through clenched teeth. Before I can object, he wrenches me away from the wall, marching me away from the dorms, away from the Pit. It's bad enough that I'm disoriented from the simulation; now I am so caught off guard by this unexpected event, so alarmed by the fury in Dameon's face and actions, that I completely lose track of where we are going. I don't even know how long he drags me along, but when we eventually stop, I see that we are near one of the housing blocks.

Dameon slams me up against the wall again, knocking the wind out of me.

"Explain yourself," he demands through clenched teeth.

"Dameon, what…"

He cuts me off by placing his hands on my shoulders and giving me a hard shake.

"Do _not _play dumb with me, girl!" He bellows in my face. "You know what I'm talking about. Now _explain yourself! _And tell me the truth, because I _will _know if you're lying!"

I cower away from his fury, squeezing my eyes shut. My legs feel like jelly, and I'm trembling from head to toe again. My heart is pounding, my breathing shallow and rapid. Dameon is terrifying when he's angry.

"I… I…" I stammer. Dameon shakes me again.

"I'm trying to help him," I manage through gritted teeth of my own.

"Help?" Dameon spits the word out, leaning close, our faces inches apart. "You've shattered him, you hear me? He's like a different person. Like he's given up; like he doesn't care about anything anymore. Please explain to me how you think that's _helping _him."

I have never been so afraid of another person in my life. Dameon is twice my size, and bulging with muscle. He could probably break my arm just by squeezing it. I feel panic rising in my belly, constricting my throat. I squeeze my eyes shut even tighter. I can't bear to look at him. I'm scared I'm scared I'm scared….

_Like he's given up, like he doesn't care about anything…_

It worked. Not how I'd hoped, maybe, but it worked!

I force myself to breathe normally, to steady my trembling body.

"If he doesn't care about anything," I say as firmly as I can muster, "then he's not _afraid _of anything. And when I left him last, he was _terrified. _Your brother told me what he's afraid of, Dameon. He asked for my help. _Mine,_ not yours. He trusted me with his deepest fear. And I promise that I have _not _betrayed that. I hope that I can trust you not to tell him that. He has to believe what he believes now if he's going to make it through this. As his brother, I hope you understand."

His hands fall away suddenly, and I hear his footsteps retreating. I slide to the ground, my back against the wall, gasping slightly. After about ten paces, the footsteps stop.

"Rain," I hear Dameon say, his voice quieter and calmer, but not without a menacing undertone. "Come clean with him later. I don't know if he'll forgive you, but if he does, I'm warning you: don't _ever_ do something like this to him again."

"Dameon," I reply, "I am in love with your brother. I didn't want to do this the first time. It hurts me just as much as it hurts him."

He is silent for a few moments.

"Just come clean with him later."

I nod.

I hear him walk away.

I open my eyes and let the tears flow. Will it ever end, the list of people I've hurt with my actions?


	29. Chapter 29

As if the simulation on its own wasn't bad enough, the encounter with Dameon has seriously rattled me. I wander down hallways and walkways until I find myself back in the Pit. All thoughts of what to do before lunch are completely out of the question now: I just want to go back to bed and wait until I stop shaking. I make my way unsteadily across the Pit, down the hallway, and back to the dorms. As I push the door open, I hear voices speaking in low, serious tones. I step inside to find Nicole, Joseph, and Nate all sitting on Nate's bed, almost huddled together. Nate is the one speaking when I enter the room.

"…kept getting closer and closer, and I couldn't get away. It was all around me and I knew I was going to burn to death. There was literally nothing I could do to stop it," his voice trembles as he speaks. Joseph reaches out and grips his shoulder. Nate sighs, his breath quaking as he exhales.

I walk over to my bed, not looking at any of them. I throw myself face down onto it and curl into a ball. The room is silent, and I know that they are all watching me. Soon I hear the springs in Nate's mattress squeak as someone rises from the bed and walks over to me. I feel a hand on my shoulder, light and gentle: Nicole. I reach up and clasp her hand, holding it in place.

"Do you want to talk about it?" She asks softly. I shake my head against my pillow. I don't know what frightened me more: the simulation or my encounter with Dameon. I don't want to talk about either one.

"Leave her, Nicole," Nate's voice is gruff. "Do you really think she deserves sympathy after what she did?"

"Nate," Nicole fires back, "can you please take a moment to consider everything that she's been through? Her best friend was just killed by someone who she was trying to help. That same someone then tried to murder her boyfriend…"

"Ex-boyfriend, you mean," Nate interrupts.

"Not at the time!" She cuts him off. "Personally, I can't blame Rain for wanting to distance herself from everyone right now. Think about it: the last three people she's tried to get close to have ended up either seriously injured or dead. Now consider where she came from. Do you really think that her upbringing could have ever prepared her for any of the awful stuff that's happened over the last week? I don't, and that's why I don't blame her for pushing everyone away."

I stare at the wall. I never expected anyone to defend my actions. I couldn't even defend them myself; much less define them the way Nicole just did. What she says makes sense. I just wish it were the truth.

Everyone else in the room seems to buy it, though. I hear Nate sigh in resignation and Joseph remains silent. I squeeze her hand, and she acknowledges this with a tightened grip on my shoulder.

"Well, if you do decide that you want to talk, I, at least, am here to listen," Nicole assures me. Her hand remains on my shoulder for a few seconds longer, then slides away. "Come on, guys. Let's go get lunch."

I hear them all rise and walk out the door. Not another word is spoken. I know that I should join them, that I need to eat something, and I need to stop acting like a coward whenever Dante is around and face up to my actions. If I keep acting like I've done something wrong, my guilt is going to show, and that is something that I do not want to happen. I have to act like I'm moving on, like what actually does matter most to me is getting through Stage Two.

I drag myself from my bed a few minutes later and head down to the Pit for lunch. The initiates' tables are much more subdued than usual, and several of the Dauntless-born are not yet present. Day one of the fear simulations has taken its toll, it seems. Those who are having lunch here are uncharacteristically somber, with one exception.

Dante.

He is seated in the middle of the pack, and he seems to be the only one who is eating with any semblance of normalcy. Others stab at morsels that never reach their mouths, or pick with feigned interest at bits of their food, or eat like they have been programmed to do so instead of because they are hungry; but Dante seems genuinely interested in the food that's in front of him, not to mention the activity around him. I see his head turning to follow movements of people who pass close to him, and watch him scoot down the bench to make room when another initiate joins their table. Most of the others act more like zombies.

I take my usual place, meaning that Dante and I sit with our backs to each other across a wide aisle. As far as I can tell, he did not notice me coming in. Jacqueline, on the other hand, did. She rises from her seat and walks over to our table, settling between Nate and me. She glances briefly at me before her attention is focused on Nate, after which she doesn't even so much as acknowledge me. I feel a twinge of hurt in my chest, but I immediately push it aside and reach for a hamburger patty from the tray in front of me. It is with some satisfaction that I notice that my hand isn't shaking as I do so.

I scoop some steamed carrots onto my plate, and dive into my meal in an attempt to appear actually hungry, and as though nothing is bothering me. Instead of sitting listlessly and staring at my plate or the tabletop, I let my eyes wander from table to table, observing the activity of the Pit at lunchtime. I see Four walk past and take his usual seat next to his friend Zeke. I watch Eric stalk down an aisle, nodding every now and then to shouted greetings. I see him give a particularly longing look at a tall girl with long, dark wavy hair who I have never seen before. The scene amuses me because Eric is one of the last people I would ever imagine being interested in something like romance.

I manage to eat all of my lunch, after which I realize that I don't have anything on my agenda for the rest of the day. Eating a hot meal certainly did help me to feel better after my rough morning, so I decide to head to my favorite training room to try to sharpen up.

First I swing by Carla's shop because I think she deserves a follow-up on our last conversation. I am a little disappointed to find that the shop is insanely crowded and that she isn't even there when I arrive. I browse around the racks for a while, but nothing catches my attention so I head back to the training room.

The best thing about being here, I've decided, is that I am not forced to associate with the other initiates. During training, they are the only people available to interact with, short of Four and Harrison, and considering how most of them feel about me now, it's good to have a break.

Today, the room isn't as crowded as it was the last time I was here. I look for Jane and her friends on the climbing wall and obstacle courses, but I don't see them so I decide to start with my usual routine of running laps. I cross toward the back left section of the room where the oval lanes are chalked into the floor, looking around at the other workout options. Some of these I have done before, like the weight training and sparring rings, while others- like the obstacle courses and balance beams- are completely foreign to me. I am so preoccupied with considering what stations I should try after my warm-up that I am only a few yards from the track when I see that it is already in use.

A doctor and two assistants with a wheeled cart covered in monitoring equipment are situated in the center of the oval rings beside an object that was never there before: a treadmill. On the treadmill, moving at an easy jog is Dante. There are wires taped to his bare chest, above and below the bandage that still covers his bullet wound, and an elastic band holds an opaque plastic mask over his nose and mouth. The monitors, it appears, are being used to monitor his heart rate, blood pressure, and oxygen intake as he jogs. The pang in my chest returns, this time not because I am in close proximity to Dante and that always makes me anxious, but because it hurts to see him like this. Not so long ago, he was the picture of a healthy, fit, promising Dauntless initiate. Now, even his breathing is being scrutinized and monitored to make sure he doesn't drop dead while doing something that once was as easy as an afterthought.

I start to turn away, considering going to the training room at the other side of the Pit: the one that the transfers used during the first stage of initiation. But then I remember my vow to stop avoiding every situation that puts me in close proximity to Dante.

I start running on the track.

I know the moment that I enter his field of vision, but I do not acknowledge it in any way. I run easily past, and around to his other side, exiting his peripheral vision. A few seconds later I will come back into his field of view, and this time he's expecting it. I can tell, because he turns his head slightly in my direction as though he's looking and listening for me.

I pass in front of him again.

I hear him say something to the medical team, but I can't understand him through the mask. I do, however, clearly hear the doctor's reply.

"Sure; everything looks good so far. We can increase the speed a little."

And just like that, he's turning it into an unspoken competition. For a split second I feel myself rising to the challenge, but I fight the urge to pick up the pace and just blast my way around the track. Dante is nothing if not extremely competitive when it comes to physical training, and I am sure that he would push himself to an unsafe pace if I started running too fast. Instead, I steady myself and simply lengthen my stride. My pace remains the same, but I am moving faster because I am covering more ground. Next time I pass into his field of view, I see that Dante is doing the same.

And now it's like I am the one coaching him, helping him to train, like he did for me during Stage One. He matches my pace, which I maintain steadily as I run lap after lap around his treadmill, slowly increasing my speed one more time.

Somewhere around my twelfth time passing in front of him, I hear an alarm sound on one of the monitors. Before I can stop the reaction, my head whips to the left and I that's when I see that he is staring at me. His face, along with every other visible bit of bare skin, is drenched in sweat. Strands of damp hair cling to his temples and forehead. The mask mostly obscures his face, but I can see his eyes clearly. They are focused directly on mine.

Their old fire is back.

Not the way it was when he was in the infirmary while everyone was deciding whether he should continue into Stage Two of training, not the way it was on those nights when we stole away to be alone together; it is back to what it was the first time I ever talked to him by the chasm. And I know that he knows what I'm seeing when his cheeks round out from what could only be a wicked smile under that mask.

I falter; again, this is involuntary.

"Slow down, chief," the doctor cautions, "this isn't a race. That beeping is your lung capacity monitor. You're breathing too hard. Slow down."

I slow my pace and tear my gaze from Dante's and keep it locked on the lane in front of me. After a few seconds, the monitor's alarm is silenced. I continue for a few more laps, then I hear one of the doctor's assistants tell him that the time is up. I am behind the treadmill when this happens, and I slow to a stop. I place my hands on my knees and breathe deeply for about a minute. In that time, I watch out of the corner of my eye as the treadmill slowly comes to a halt and Dante steps off. He is standing straighter than I've seen in a long time and he keeps his head up, never even glancing in my direction as they disconnect him from the monitors one by one. They chatter back and forth with him and with each other, the general consensus being that he has done very well and appears to be healing very quickly. I don't mean to eavesdrop, but they are in closer proximity to me than anyone else in the room.

The two assistants turn in my direction with Dante between them while the doctor remains at the monitors, apparently recording data and taking notes. I straighten abruptly and walk away, trying to look as casual as possible. I head directly for the climbing wall, and am relieved when I glance back and see Dante and his escorts heading for the exit. I really don't have any intention to do any wall climbing today, but I am nowhere near ready for a face-to-face run-in with Dante. I spend the next several minutes walking around the perimeter of the room and stretching. Only when I am sure that he is long gone do I decide to head out.

After a shower and a change of clothes, I decide to try again at Carla's shop. My luck is fifty/fifty: the store is quieter and Carla has returned, but she is talking to two people at the counter when I walk in. All three of their heads turn in my direction, revealing the visitors as Four and Dameon. The surprise of seeing the three of them talking together is so unexpected that I freeze in my tracks.

"Speak of the devil," Carla chirps.


	30. Chapter 30

"Me?" I say stupidly.

"Yes, you," Four replies; "We were just talking about you."

"Why?" I ask slowly, warily, as my eyes dart between the three of them. Dameon sets his jaw and says nothing.

"We were just discussing what happened between you and Dante, if you want to know the truth," Carla answers.

"Did you tell _him _about that?" I ask, gesturing to Dameon. "Because he scared the living crap out of me earlier, _discussing _that very topic with me."

Then something occurs to me. Why would the three of them, specifically, be talking about Dante and me? Or more precisely, why would they be discussing what happened between us?

"What, was he in on this?" I demand, glaring in Dameon's direction. "Did the three of you conspire to separate us?"

The looks on their faces are priceless. I'd laugh if I were not so angry.

"Did you all meet up and decide that the best thing for Dante during Stage Two was to get away from me? Why, because he's changed since he met me? Because he was looking less like a badass when he hung around with me? News flash, guys: people change; it's part of life! Personally, I think you should have asked for Dante's opinion on the matter before forcing me into something so drastic!" I am shouting now, good and loud. Good thing there's no one but us in the store, although I'm pretty sure that people outside can probably hear me too.

"Rain…" Dameon begins.

"And _you_!" I bellow at him. "What the hell was that all about earlier? I mean, if you've been part of this all along, why bother with the Big Brother act? Seriously, what is it with you guys? You really have no idea what Dante and I had between us, or how important it was to us, or you would have _never_ asked me to do what I did!"

"Rain, wait," Carla pleads.

"No!" I cut her off, temper flaring. "I've had enough of your advice! One minute you tell me I'm the best thing that's ever happened to him, the next minute you're telling me that I can only help him if I do something that will shatter him!"

"Who told you that?" She asks, surprisingly calm.

"He did!" I retort, pointing an accusatory finger at Dameon. Carla and Four both turn their attention to him.

But I'm not done.

"Well, the hell with you all. I liked you; I trusted you and took your advice, and now I've screwed up the best thing I've ever had going for me in my life because of it. So yeah, thanks a ton. I'm out," and with that, I turn on my heel and storm out of the store. Carla calls after me weakly, but I ignore her.

A few seconds after I leave, I hear the store's door open and footsteps hurrying to catch up to me.

"Go away and leave me alone," I say sternly as they catch up to me.

"Rain, stop. You have to listen to me," it's Four, and he sounds like he did during Stage One: barking orders at know-nothing initiates.

"Leave me alone, Four," I grumble.

"Dammit Rain, you are _so_ stubborn! You said your piece back there, now hear me out!" He grabs my shoulder and spins me around roughly. I am ready for him- I use the momentum of my turn to throw my punch.

But he is ready for me, too. He blocks it easily, but looks surprised.

"That was a good swing," he says, sounding genuinely impressed.

"Don't try to sweet-talk me." I narrow my eyes at him. "And don't change the subject."

Something flickers in his eyes; something dangerous. It's gone a split second later. He glances around at the busy corridor. Still grasping my fist, he pulls me closer and speaks quietly into my ear.

"Come with me. This isn't something that should be talked about with other ears around."

I uncoil my fist as he releases his grip. He turns and walks away at a brisk pace. I am still angry, but something in the way he said it makes me think I should go with him, so I follow a few steps behind. He leads me up to the simulation room, pausing before turning down the hallway that dead-ends at its door to make sure we won't be noticed. When the coast is clear, he pushes the door open and flips on the light. I follow him in and he takes the chair behind the monitor, motioning for me to sit down in the sim chair. I perch on the edge of the seat, facing him, still glowering

"Now listen," he says, his voice low and stern, his eyebrows drawn together as he gives me a hard stare. "I don't know how much you know or don't know about Dante and what he's dealing with, but I can tell you this: there was no conspiracy between the three of us, or anyone, to come between you. The fact that Carla and I gave you the same advice regarding your relationship is purely coincidental. We both recommended it for different reasons, both of which were genuine. We only figured that out tonight. Now, do you want to know why we were talking about you back there?"

"Yes," I reply tersely. Four pauses, studying my face.

"Did you happen to notice where Dameon took you when he gave you that lecture?"

"Not really. It was a housing block," I reply.

"Yes it was. It was the block where this year's initiates will be living after Stage Two. Those who make it through, anyway." He keeps his eyes on me, as though he's waiting for me to figure something out.

"Why would he take me there?" I have no idea.

"You might want to ask Dante about that sometime," he says vaguely.

"Four, you're not helping," I snort, feeling my temper rising again.

"I don't mean today. Just… sometime. But listen; what I really need to talk to you about is Dante. Right before Stage Two started, several of us- trainers and leaders- went to visit him in the infirmary for an evaluation from the doctors to see if he would be fit enough to continue with Stage Two. It was made very clear to him that if something went wrong during the simulation, either psychologically or physically, it could kill him. He didn't seem worried about that, but when the subject turned to the fear simulation itself…" he trails off, glancing at the door.

"What was it?" I ask. I did witness the whole scene, but no one knew I was there so I must feign ignorance.

He lowers his voice again.

"Rain, I know Dante. Not well, not personally, but by reputation. To openly show fear is completely out of character for him but when we started talking about the simulations, I saw it plain as day on his face. The others thought it was the possibility of his death that he was afraid of, but that's not what I saw.

"I need to know. Did you two talk about the simulations at all?"

"A little," I lie, and instantly feel like my chest is caving in. Another lie.

"What did you talk about?" He presses.

"Four, that's between him and I, I think; kind of personal," I say defensively.

"It's for his sake that I'm asking."

And that's when I see it. Four knows: he knows what Dante is hiding.

Suddenly I am terrified for him all over again.

"We talked about our worst fears," I fire at him, "but you will _not_ get any details out of me. You'll see them soon enough in our fear landscapes. You're going to have to settle for that."

He nods, dropping his eyes to his hands folded in his lap.

"I thought you'd say that," he says. I set my jaw, hoping I haven't said too much. Four sighs. "You did the right thing. For his sake."

"What…?" I was not expecting him to say that. He inhales, deeply.

"Look, Rain. It's not my place to get involved in the personal lives of my charges," he continues to stare at his hands. " I felt the need to intervene with you and Dante before Stage Two because it could have negatively affected your simulations. Now, I don't know how much he did or didn't tell you about his worst fears, but I don't think he told you everything. But what you did… it changed things. I was the right thing to do, even if you deceived him. And I just wanted you to know that, because it seems like everyone else is against you right now. I wanted you to know that you have at least one person on your side.

"I heard about what Dameon did to you today from Carla; she saw you two together and followed in case things got out of hand," he reveals. "She's the one who told me where he took you, and she heard what Dameon said to you. She told me because I am your instructor and therefore responsible for your welfare. I went to talk to Carla tonight about what she saw, and Dameon just happened to walk in. It was a coincidence. Carla and I were actually defending your position at the moment you walked into the shop."

He looks up when he stops talking. I don't know what to say; I feel so foolish now, and so terrible for yelling at Carla and him.

"I apologize," I say, taken down a peg. "I owe Carla an apology, too."

"She'll understand, I'm sure. She does have a soft spot for you," he says with a smile. "Now go on, get out of here. I'm sure you have better things to be doing than getting a lecture from your instructor."

I nod and slide off the chair, heading for the door. I pause as I lay my hand on the handle.

"Four," I say, turning back to face him. He is still seated, watching me. "Thanks."

"Don't mention it. Really," he waves me off.

I head back to Carla's shop, but she is not at the counter so I don't go in. I proceed to wander aimlessly through the compound, wishing- not for the first time- that Erica was with me. I'm sure she and I could find some interesting way to spend our free time. Thinking of her still hurts. Her funeral was held two days after her death. I missed it because I was in the hospital watching over Dante. Yet another guilt that I am sure I will carry with me for a very long time.

I do feel a little better after talking to Four, but still apprehensive. He didn't seem to have any bad intentions in regards to what I suspect he's figured out about Dante. Or maybe I'm just jumping to conclusions again, and Four doesn't know what I know. But that would mean that Dante actually didn't tell me something, and while I would like to think that it couldn't be true, I can't dismiss it completely. I know that there's only one way to find out, but I am absolutely not ready to talk to him yet.

_Yet._

The word pops into my mind unbidden. Three little letters that give me so much hope; so much anxiety. _Yet _means that I intend to in the future, which means I can keep the promises I made to Four, to Carla, and to Dameon.

Four suggested that Dante and I put things in a lower gear until after Stage Two was complete. Carla suggested the same. Dameon told me to come clean with Dante. These are all hints that I should attempt to reconcile my differences with him; to tell him the reason for my behavior after we have both completed Stage Two.

Now it's just a matter of getting through the fear simulations. After what Four just told me, I am more confident that Dante will be all right. And that makes me feel better than anything else.

Hours later at dinner, I switch seats and sit beside Nicole, mainly as a way to show her that I appreciate her standing up for me earlier. Jacqueline sits with Nate and continues to snub me. Dante reappears with a different nurse in tow. He does no more than his meal- again with more zeal than the rest of us- and leaves the Pit. He wastes no time, and I assume that it is because of all the testing and monitoring he's going through right now. I do wish that I could be there for him through it.

I miss him.

Among the other initiates, dinner is almost as subdued as lunch. After we finish our various levels of food consumption, we retreat from the chaos of the Pit. I seek a little peace and quiet in the dorms, and end up lying on my bed and staring at the ceiling, reflecting on the fear simulations today. I watched every single one of the Dauntless-born initiates enter and then exit the simulation room. Not one of them was not affected significantly by what they experienced. I only wish that I had stuck around to see how the other transfers had fared. I promise myself that starting tomorrow, I will do just that. It's the best way to gauge how I am looking in the rankings until they post another progress report.

I end up falling asleep before I mean to; I wake up when Nicole and Joseph walk in, arms around each other, heads together. I roll over and face the wall, not wanting to intrude on their personal moment. I close my eyes again, and minutes later I am asleep again. I expect nightmares about the fear simulation, but surprisingly I manage to dodge that bullet. The rest of my dorm mates are not so lucky. I hear each of them wake at least once in the night in various reactions to what could only be frightening dreams: three times there are screams; once there is a series of low, agonizing moans, and once someone wakes, panting almost to the point of wheezing, and proceeds to get out of bed and pace the floor by the door for several minutes until they calm down. After that incident, I do not hear anyone else wake until morning.


	31. Chapter 31

Now that we know what they entail, most of the initiates are dreading day two of the fear simulations. Despite Four's repeated assurances to all of us that they would get easier, no one seems very confident that it is going to happen anytime soon. We enter the simulation room in the same order as the day before, last to first, starting with the Dauntless-born initiates. I keep my eye on the clock above the door, noting everyone's time.

Eleven minutes.

Nine minutes.

Eight minutes.

Twelve minutes…

Dante is again the last of them to run through his simulation. A doctor once again accompanies him with a special monitor to keep tabs on his vitals as the simulation plays itself out. I find myself wondering what Dante is seeing, and wishing that we could talk about it later. But for now, I must keep my distance. Maybe, just maybe, after this is all over, we can share our experiences.

Dante's time is just over seven minutes; the shortest so far. When he exits the room and walks past the transfers where we wait in the hall for our turns in the simulation room, he looks shaken. Not as bad as some of the others, but bad enough that I wish I could do something for him. My powerlessness might be the worst part of this whole thing.

My run comes right after Dante's, and again I catch whiffs of his scent on the headrest of the chair and feel the fading heat from his body in its cushions. I grasp at these small familiarities, hoping that their comfort will bring some encouragement as Four injects me with the serum and I slip into my next hallucination.

This time I am being chased across the city by dogs. Dozens of huge, mottled, brown and gray dogs, snarling and barking ferociously in their pursuit. I sprint across stretches of open ground at last climb up onto a platform by the elevated train tracks near the Hub to escape them. But there are more dogs on the tracks, and I know that the platform alongside them only stretches so far before I will have to run on the tracks themselves. That means I will be contending with both the dogs and the trains, and I do not like my odds in that situation.

I race along the platform to where part of the sheltering roof remains intact and climb up it. The problem with that is, I am now trapped with no escape route. I have to fight my way through them. I turn and look down at the pack. It's massive; dozens of dogs cover the platform and tracks, with more milling around on the ground below.

There is no possible way that I can do that. I have to escape.

I look up. About nine feet from the edge of the platform, a steel beam protrudes from the shell of the ancient, ruined building beside the tracks. Where the beam meets the side of the building, a rusty ladder is bolted to the brickwork and leads to the building's roof. If I can get a running start, I can make it across the gap between the roof and the beam, which is at chest level. The trouble is, I don't even have ten feet of running room on this ruined section of roof. And if I don't make it, either the fall or the dogs on the ground will kill me.

I edge as far back on the roof as I can. All around me, the dogs are snarling and snapping, jumping up to snatch at my ankles and feet. Some of them are big and strong enough to get close. I fight down my panic and try to focus on the beam. I take a deep, steadying breath, staring at the beam, closing out the rest of the world.

I run.

I take three strides, and on the fourth, I jump. The beam looms before me, and I reach out with both arms for it.

The force of the steel against my chest and elbows knocks the wind out of me. I clutch desperately with my hands for purchase, and find it. Wheezing, I haul myself into a crouch on the beam, which is about eight inches across. I glance down once at the dogs, then straighten slightly and begin walking toward the building. I reach the ladder and grasp its rusty rails in my hands. It is old, but it seems sturdy enough. I begin to climb, feeling safer with each rung I pass. I escaped! I take one final look back at the frenzied dogs on the ground and platform.

I turn back to look up at the ladder, and find myself staring at the ceiling of the simulation room. Four is watching me from his chair at the computer a few feet away. I exhale slowly and sit up. My heart is still pounding, but it's the kind of pounding that it does after I finish a long run. I can tell it was going a lot harder not long ago. Four regards me silently for a moment.

"So, how do you interpret that?" I ask him.

"Interpret? There's nothing to it; that's cut and dried. You're afraid of being attacked by dogs," he says matter-of-factly, but there is something else in his voice, a quality I cant quite pin down.

"What is it?" I ask, narrowing my eyes at him.

"Your time…" he replies.

How long could it have taken me to get away from the dogs? It certainly felt like longer than last time, but how _much_ longer? Almost everyone else's time was at least a little shorter than yesterday. I wince, and Four laughs.

"It wasn't bad, Rain. You beat everyone so far!" He says.

"What?!" I can scarcely believe my ears. I have the best time? Better than Dante's?

"Six minutes, fifteen seconds," he replies, crossing his arms over his chest and sitting back in his chair. "And the way you dealt with the situation was very impressive. Very Dauntless."

"Wow!" I exclaim. Four never compliments anyone unless they really did something special. "Thanks!"

"You don't need to thank me; you're the one who did all the work. You're done for the day," he stands up to lead me to the door.

I hop off the chair… and immediately collapse. I try to rise but find that my legs have turned to jelly and my hands are shaking violently. Four rushes to my side and hauls me up, but I can't support my own weight. The trembling that started in my hands travels up my arms and across my chest, and soon I am a quivering, useless mass.

I am disjointedly aware of another person entering the room: Harrison. He scoops me up and carries me out, past the rest of the waiting initiates. He carries me down the corridor and down to the Pit floor, turning into the passage that leads to the infirmary.

The one clear thought that I have as we enter through the front doors is: please don't let Dante see me like this. There are two wards; please,_ please _take me to the other one.

But they don't.

Harrison carries me to the ward on the left, where I have spent more time than anywhere else in the compound outside of the training rooms. I am placed on the first bed inside the ward, and a familiar nurse- Kylie- gets to work on me. A doctor joins them shortly.

I am able to comprehend snatches of conversation: residual effect of the fear simulation; stress-related; muscle relaxers. I am injected with something that I can only assume is the latter, and the trembling starts to lessen soon after. I begin to feel more like myself, but I also feel very tired. A few minutes later, it's all I can do just to keep my eyes open.

Harrison and the doctor are a few yards away talking, but Kylie is right by my side. I can't help it; I turn my head and look in the direction of Dante's bed. Kylie catches the movement and follows the direction of my gaze. She shakes her head.

"He was discharged last night. He's back in the dorms," she reports. I feel very, very groggy, so I close my eyes.

"Good," I murmur. "I'm glad. He'll be all right. It will all be fine."

When I open my eyes, I know that a lot of time has passed. I am still in the bed in the infirmary. A nurse walks past me, and I see that it's not Kylie. I call out to her, and she changes direction immediately.

"Hi Rain, I'm Blair. How are you feeling?" She asks, leaning down over me.

"Better," I say. I hold up my right hand. It's not shaking anymore. My stomach rumbles. "I'm hungry."

Blair smiles.

"I'll get the doctor evaluate you. Being hungry is a good sign. If he gives you the green light, you should be able to make it to the Pit in time for dinner," she says, and then she's gone. She returns a few moments later with the doctor, who takes my pulse and has me stand up and walk around, asking me questions about how much I remember about today. I tell him what I remember, walking where he tells me and turning when he tells me. At the end of it all, he nods and says I can go, but instructs me to take it easy for the next few days. I promise that I will, and a few minutes later I am on my way to the Pit for some dinner.

The meal is mostly over by the time I arrive, but I manage to scavenge some edible bits from the serving trays. I am one of three initiates still at the table, the other two being Vince and Henry. They are both preoccupied with their meals, although neither is eating very enthusiastically. I, on the other hand, am ravenous, so I devour what's on my plate. I am finished and gone before either of the boys.

The doctor specifically forbade me from strenuous activity for the next few days, so I can't go back to the training room. Wandering aimlessly has lost its appeal, so I decide that I am going to work on a skill in which I am severely lacking. It happens to be one that I could see coming in handy in Dauntless, especially if I am going to pursue working as a perimeter guard.

I have a terrible sense of direction.

I figure that exploring the compound on my own, forcing myself to find my way back from unfamiliar areas, will help me with that. I set out on my first foray right from the Pit. I take a passageway that leads back from the Pit past the chasm; one that I have seen often enough but never walked down or asked about.

I find that the corridor is lightly traveled, with a few security guards posted here and there at various doors and at the entrances to certain hallways. I eventually take a left turn and follow the new corridor as it curves around to the left. I come to what looks like a dead end and start to turn back, but a flash of metal from the corner catches my eye. I turn back and see the top edge of a stair that appears to just plunge into the stone floor. I walk toward it to investigate.

I find that it is, in fact, a staircase that leads down. This baffles me because I have not ascended any stairs or ramps or anything since leaving the Pit, and I had always thought that the Pit signified the lowest level in the compound. I can't help but be curious about what is at the bottom of the stairs. I glance around, but the corridor is empty: no security guards in sight. I figure this means it must be okay to follow it, so I do.

The staircase is narrow and dark, leading down about thirty. It ends at the head of a long, narrow corridor that is dotted with doors at regular intervals. The lighting in the corridor is low, but I can see a small group of people standing together about halfway down. I walk toward them, and as I get closer I can make out their voices; three men, and one of them sounds familiar.

I get about halfway from the staircase when they notice me. They immediately stop their conversation, and one of them steps forward quickly.

"Hey!" He calls out to me. "Who are you? How did you get down here?"

"I'm sorry," I say, halting. I really hadn't thought I was doing anything wrong, but he is acting like that's not the case. " I was just… taking a walk when I saw the stairs. There was no one up there, so I just walked down." It sounds like the weakest excuse I have ever come up with, even though it's true.

The three men are silent for a moment, then one of them laughs, clapping the first speaker on his shoulder.

"Well, Tommy, that will teach you to leave your post again, won't it?" He chuckles. His voice is the one that sounded familiar. A moment later he steps into the light thrown by the bulb above the nearest door. It's Dante's oldest brother, Dale.

That's just great, another run-in with a brother. Just what I need.

He walks toward me and I stay rooted in place.

"Good to see you again, Rain," he says pleasantly when he reaches me. This surprises me; I fully expected another reprimand like the one Dameon gave me the day before.

"You too, Dale," I say carefully, then I glance around. "What is this place? I never knew there was a level deeper than the Pit.

"This is our weapons development section. Everything from guns and ammo to body armor to alternative weapons are developed and built here," he explains, then turns back to his companions. "Guys, this is Rain. She's an initiate who's training with my baby brother. Say, how about we give her a tour? Stage Two will be over soon, and the initiates will need to choose jobs. We could always use fresh ideas on the development teams, couldn't we?"

The others hesitate. Tommy is the first to speak.

"Well, you can give her a tour if you want, Dale. I have to get back upstairs before this becomes an impromptu field trip," he says, sounding more than a little guilty. Without waiting for a response, he strides forward, brushing past me, and heads up the staircase.

Dale laughs again.

"Tommy," he says, gesturing at his retreating back. "A security guard with a certain lack of a sense of responsibility to his duties. That's why the best assignment he can get is guarding the back stairs. And as you can see, he _excels_ at that."

I am relieved that Dale does not appear to be upset with me. Unlike Dameon.

"A tour would be cool," I say graciously, "if it's not too much trouble."

"No, none at all. I'm pretty much done with my work for the day anyway. And I meant what I said about needing fresh ideas, and a lot of those come from transfer initiates," he says.

"Well, I better get back to work," the third man finally speaks. "So the tour will be just you two. Nice meeting you, Rain." He turns and walks back down the corridor.

"See you later, Jack," Dale waves as he walks away, then turns back to me. "So, what would you like to see here in the Lab?"

I consider this for a moment. I could ask to see the combat suits that Dale has been working on using Dante's ideas. But that might be a sore subject with him, so I decide against it. A second later, I recall what he said about the development of weapons.

"What did you mean by 'alternative weapons'?" I ask.

"Well, guns and knives aren't the only things available as far as weaponry goes. There are loads of other options. Some of them are things you might never expect…" he trails off and turns to look me in the eye as though he is evaluating me.

"You came from Amity, right?" He asks slowly.

"Yeah," I say. I don't like being reminded.

"You know, there is a program in alt weapons that you might be interested in. Come on, I'll show you," he replies, gesturing for me to follow him down the corridor.

We continue for about half a dozen doors on either side, then stop when we reach one labeled A13. He pulls the handle and the heavy steel door swings out. We step inside and are bathed in a bright, white light. I am forced to squint and blink as my eyes adjust from the dimness of the corridor. We are in an entryway about ten feet by ten feet square, with another steel door at the other side. We cross the pristine white tile floor and Dale pulls the second door open.

Immediately we are greeted by a deafening wave of barking. I feel my entire body go rigid and I freeze in place. I start to feel the panic I felt in the fear simulation earlier when I was running from the dogs. My flight instinct is engaged, and I have to force myself not to bolt. Dale sees the terror in my face a moment later, and immediately shuts the door.

"Rain, what's wrong?" he asks, placing a steadying hand on my shoulder.

"My… my fear simulation today. I was being chased by dogs," I tell him. He squeezes my shoulder, and seems to be reconsidering entering the room beyond the door. For a split second I am relieved, but then something inside of me just snaps.

I am tired of running away. I am tired of being such a coward. I am tired of being less Dauntless than I believe I am capable of.

"I'm okay, Dale," I tell him, shrugging off his hand. "I can deal with this. One thing I need to do is learn to face my fears." I look up at him, setting my jaw and giving him a good, hard stare.

"In more ways than one," I finish, with emphasis, hoping he understands my unspoken message.

A smile spreads slowly over his face and he nods. He pulls the door open and we step through.

There are eight kennels in a row on one side of the room, and a large empty area separated from the rest of the room by a thick, glass wall on the other. All but one of the kennels contain one dog each; the last kennel is empty.

"They were being trained as guard dogs by a guy who transferred from Amity six years ago. His name was Clay; he and my brother Derrick were initiates together," Dale explains, gesturing to the dogs. "He was on an assignment with his best dog about five months ago, out past the Amity farms, when he and the dog just vanished. We have no idea what happened to them, but after a month it was pretty clear that he wasn't coming back. Dauntless leadership called the canine program a failure and have been trying to dissolve it, but a few of us have fought to keep it alive. We are looking for someone who can pick up where Clay left off."

My heart is pounding and I can barely bring myself to look at the dogs at first, but knowing that they are securely behind the gates of their kennels makes me braver. I venture a glance at them. They are all identical, with long, sleek bodies, erect ears, and long, slender muzzles ending in a pointed nose. They are all a uniform black, all of them huge: probably almost equal to me in weight. Their formidable teeth flash white each time they bark. I take a deep breath and walk toward one of the kennels. My pulse is absolutely racing and my mouth is dry, but I force myself to walk up to the kennel. As I reach the door, the dog inside goes silent. Its massive brown eyes stare back at me, its entire body tense and rigid, as though it is just waiting for me to make a move.

I don't.

Eventually, the dog turns away and retreats to the back of the kennel where it remains silent but watchful. I turn back to Dale.

"I think I know the way to get over my fear of dogs," I tell him. "Is it okay if I come back here to visit this one a few times before the final test?" I point to the dog at the back of its kennel.

"I don't see why not," he replies, "as long as you use the back stairs like you did today, and as long as Tommy knows that you're coming. I will let him know later tonight."

I look back at him and grin, feeling a certain measure of pride. If I figured out how to conquer this fear, the rest of them certainly can't be that much more difficult. When I turn back to the dog, I notice a small brass plate hanging from the wire mesh on the door of the kennel. I lean closer to read the word engraved on its surface.

"Queen," I read it aloud. The dog at the back of the kennel turns its head toward me and pricks its ears. "Her name?" I ask, turning back to Dale.

"So it would appear," he replies. "Come on, I want to show you some of the other stuff we're working on down here."

I follow him out the door. Just before it closes, I glance back to see the dog in the first kennel, Queen, silently watching as the door closes between us.


	32. Chapter 32

_**-DANTE-**_

My days are torture; my nights are even worse. Absolutely every waking moment has been disrupted. It's no secret that I'm a very private person, that I highly value my "me time". But that's a luxury I don't get much of these days. Granted, I did let _her _in, and she was a welcome, though brief, visitor. After all that's transpired now, I'm not sure if we will ever get back what we once had. I would like to think so, because the void that remains where she once was part of me is my least favorite thing in the world. Sometimes I can't tell if the pain in my chest is from the bullet wound or from _her _absence. They tell me that I'm getting better; that I'm almost completely healed, so I guess that means it's the latter.

I have a million questions, and the only person who can answer them has, in all appearances, abandoned me. While I'm awake, I think of little else. I remember every moment we spent together: how we met, the nights we trained together, all the things I ever wanted to say to her but couldn't because I knew I didn't have words that were worthy of her, and most of all- _most of all- _I remember kissing her, holding her, the feel of her heartbeat against mine, and the moment that I knew I was in love with her.

When I am sleeping, I dream the same thing over and over again: the bullet leaving Spencer's gun and ripping through the left side of my chest. I remember willing it, as I faded from consciousness, away from my heart because I had to stay alive. I had plans, I had dreams, and I wanted a future… I have to live for _her. _And then, in my dream, I open my eyes and she is leaving. I wake up, sweating and shaking, every time, _every night_.

I have no idea why she abandoned me. She seemed so strong, so determined to do whatever she could for me one minute- after sharing my deepest secret with her, I might add- and the next it was like she turned coward and ran. I don't understand it. To make it even more confusing, I keep running into her and the way she reacts to me seems like leaving was not something she wanted to do. I've caught her looking at me across the tables at meals, and I see a sadness behind her eyes that was never there before. I watched her run laps while I was on the treadmill on the first day that my lung capacity was being measured, and while she wasn't directly interacting with me, it felt like she was encouraging me, boosting my confidence the way I used to boost hers back in Stage One. The fact that she left just feels… wrong.

Mostly because she told me that she loves me, and I know she wouldn't lie to me. Not about that.

It almost feels like someone put her up to it, or threatened her, or otherwise forced this on her. And that's the most frightening thing, because if someone else is manipulating her, it means that I have almost no chance of winning her back. Oh sure, I could eventually follow her around, see who she talks to, ask my brothers if they've seen anything, but let's face it: even if I found out who it was, what could I do about it? Is there any action I could take that wouldn't put her in harm's way?

I don't think so.

So I have to do what I've been doing: I have to trust her and just hope that she will come around and at least talk to me. I would love to be the catalyst to that process, but I have this damn medical team hovering over me day and night, and there is no way I could approach her without one or more of them witnessing our conversation. In all honesty, while I do appreciate what they are doing for me, but what happens between her and I… it's none of their business. My time with Rain was ours- hers and mine- and I don't want them to be part of it. This means waiting, and that is a very hard thing for me to do right now.

Days pass as Stage Two proceeds, each one a routine that changes slightly. On the first day, the infirmary staff hauled me onto my feet and cleaned me up (that was more than a little uncomfortable and embarrassing) before letting me walk out to the Pit for my first meal there in days. After that came the lung capacity measurement, which I apparently passed with flying colors, so after a few hours' observation I was discharged and moved back into the dorms. The others made a huge ordeal about my return to the dorms; someone actually went to the kitchens and coaxed Anthony out of a whole chocolate cake, which we all proceeded to devour. It was nice to be back among the people I grew up with, sure, but through my whole "welcome back" celebration, one thought rang clear in my mind: before I met Rain, they would have never behaved like this toward me. She broke down the barriers I kept between myself and other people; barriers that I once thought were necessary to my survival.

Of course, Stage Two also means simulations that teach the new Dauntless initiates to recognize and control their actions in the face of fear. During the initial simulations, we only experience a few of our fears and we are not aware that we are in a simulation at the time (well, most of us aren't). I know that these aspects will change at the end of this stage, when we will all face a full-blown fear landscape. For now, however, we face one fear at a time.

Mine repeat themselves.

My first fear was weakness. I was being overpowered by something huge, dark, and shapeless; something that I could not overcome no matter how hard I fought. Basically, Four told me, this means that I fear facing an opponent that I can do nothing to defeat. My second fear is isolation: being shut out from society and deprived of human contact of any kind. I was not at all surprised to learn that my third fear is injections. I have to close my eyes and focus on breathing normally each time I visit the simulation room, until Four pulls that needle out of my neck.

My fourth and fifth fears tie in very closely with the first and second: being forced to live factionless and the deaths of my brothers and father. On the sixth day, my fears begin to repeat themselves in random order. Four appears mildly surprised by this, but he assures me that it's not the first time that someone has experienced recurring fears in the simulations. He tells me that, although not common, it usually happens in one of two situations: either the individual who experiences repeats has a remarkably low number of fears and therefore the serum stimulates a replay because it can't conjure another fear; or the remaining fears are buried too deep for this serum to reach them, in which case they will only manifest when the more powerful simulation- the fear landscape- is introduced.

In my case, I know that there are a number of things that I fear worse than what I have already experienced, so I know which of the two scenarios I face. I don't tell Four this, though. Just knowing what I might have to face during my run through my fear landscape makes these individual simulations seem not so bad. Sure, they shake me up because they feel so real while they're happening, but to me they are like bad dreams: I wake up and shake them off, and as long as they don't involve Rain, it's easy enough to get on with things.

I wish I could tell Rain. But in addition to the roadblock of her breaking things off with me, lately I have hardly seen her around the compound at all. She speeds through her meals and then just vanishes. Even though I have been moved back into the dorms, I still have a doctor with me while I'm in the simulation and medical staff nearby during meals, not to mention routine monitoring and checkups on a daily basis- whether it's blood work (more needles; oh joy) or lung capacity or whatever. These things take up most of my free time and seriously invade what was once a very private life. If it weren't for all this, I would have had my chance by now to talk to Rain.

Our final day of Stage Two arrives, and my fear this day is a third repeat of my injection scenario. I have learned to deal with it in the simulation the way that I deal with it in reality: close my eyes and turn my face away; it will be over soon enough. Of course, in reality, I generally only face one injection at a time, not dozens. What's different today is that we are not dismissed after our simulations are completed. We have to return to the corridor outside the room and wait until everyone has finished. For me, this is interesting because it is the first time I will witness Rain's simulation.

I have been completely avoiding the scoreboards during Stage Two. I know how my times are measuring up against the Dauntless-born initiates, and seeing as there are only four transfers left, I don't think I have anything to worry about as long as my simulation times remain among the three best of the Dauntless-born. Not having to worry about being ousted from the rankings by the transfers is a good enough reason to never look at the scoreboards: it's easier not to know if Rain is doing poorly because this time I am completely powerless to help her. Any time people bring up the subject of our scores, I shut them down with a harsh word and a cold stare. I have made it clear to the others that this topic, as well as the subject of Rain in general, is taboo in my presence. I suppose that having the reputation I do helps, because no one has ever pushed the issue.

Today, however, I guess I will be getting a good indication of how she is doing, because I will be watching her time with all the other initiates. As usual, she goes in right after me. I take a seat on the floor against the wall opposite where she had been waiting, and look up at the clock above the door.

Some of the initiates vocalize during the simulations- crying, screaming, moaning- but I don't hear a sound from Rain. I know when she begins the simulation, because Four stops talking as he focuses on the monitors. I am surprised when, about six minutes later, he speaks again and she answers. As usual, no one can make out their exact words because of the thickness of the door and walls, but we can hear both of their voices. An awed murmur ripples through the small gathering of initiates.

Six minutes.

She beat my best time by more than thirty seconds, and my time today by more than a minute. I feel a smile of relief spreading across my face when I realize that Rain is most likely going to be all right in this round. When she steps from the room a few moments later, she is breathing hard and her pupils are dilated, but she seems steady enough as she walks back to her spot across from me. She glances at me briefly, hesitating, then sits down across from me and pointedly looks at the door to the simulation room.

Not at me.

I am still smiling, though. I can't help it; I'm proud of her.

Next, Joseph enters the simulation room. He looks terrified of even walking across the floor to the door of the room. I see Rain and Nate each take one of Nicole's hands, clasping them tightly as the door swings shut behind Joseph. I take this to mean that he has been having trouble in this stage. Everyone then focuses on the door and the clock above it, so I sneak a long look at Rain.

I can see why most boys would overlook her. She doesn't especially stand out, save for that long, reddish braid of hers. She isn't particularly beautiful like Jacqueline or built like a warrior like Seneta. But I see things in her that are unconventional, and I find them absolutely irresistible. I see a long, elegant neck above a delicate collarbone. I see skin as pale and soft as snowflakes. I also see things like the way she walked across the floor from her seat in the Amity section to the dais on Choosing Day, like she knew exactly who she was and what she was doing; the way that she keeps her eyes on mine when we talk; the way she kept trying to do right by Spencer even when it was clear to me that he was falling apart. She is strong, she is brave, she is beautiful, and for all these things and many, many more, I do love her.

I thought I was falling in love once, a few years ago. But what I felt for Jessie and what I feel for Rain are as different as blood and water. Jessie accepted me for who I was; Rain made me want to be better than that. Jessie and I were outsiders together, but Rain opened me up and made me want to be part of a world that I'd shut out. And she did it simply by being herself.

My thoughts are interrupted by the door at the end of the corridor opening, and Joseph staggering out. He is wheezing and drenched in sweat. Nicole subdues an alarmed cry, then quickly composes herself and waits to make sure Joseph is seated and starting to calm down before rising and entering the room herself. I glance up at the clock: twelve minutes. Joseph is struggling badly; his time is three minutes longer than the longest so far. I glance back at the transfers across the room, and Rain is murmuring reassurances to Joseph. I turn back to the clock and focus my attention there.

After the simulations are done for the day, Four leads all of us up two more levels to a large, empty room. I know it to be the fear landscape room, which Four confirms. He explains that we will be experiencing a sample of the actual fear landscape simulations tomorrow, and the following day we will perform our final tests when we go through our own fear landscapes. He explains that the difference between the single simulations and the final test is the fact that we will be aware that we are in a simulation for the latter, and that only our reactions to the fears and our times will be monitored.

This is something I didn't know. The actual fears themselves will not be monitored, so only the initiates themselves will know what those are. I breathe a huge sigh of relief, because even if this _does_ manifest in my fear landscape, I am the only one who will know exactly what it is.

Four dismisses us after this, and I linger at the back of the pack hoping to catch Rain's eye. I want to know if she understands what this means to me; that it means I can make it through the final test. As luck would have it, she and I are the last two to leave. I reach the door first and hold it open for her. She glances up at me as she passes, and I meet her eyes expectantly. Her expression never changes, but she gives me the smallest nod. Then she walks out the door without looking back, and that's the end of it. No words, no smile, no further encouragement.

As I watch her walk away, I want more than anything to wrap my arms around her and tell her how much she means to me.

That pain in my chest is back.


	33. Chapter 33

One of the best/worst things in regards to facing a roomful of huge, barking dogs every day is that I don't have to deal with Dante run-ins. The minute I enter Room A13, it's like the outside world fades into the background, like it's part of a different life. That's probably because these dogs are huge, very loud, and very terrifying, and they kind of make everything else seem insignificant when I'm in their presence. I usually just walk in and stand in the middle of the room with my eyes closed while their cacophony of barking and growling fills my ears, and focus on breathing normally. I tell myself over and over that they can't hurt me; they can't reach me.

I always open my eyes at the same moment: after a good three minutes of noise, one of the dogs goes silent. That is when I open my eyes. It is always Queen. She stands there at the front of her kennel for a moment, just watching me, and then she turns to the right and retreats to the back of the kennel. The other dogs carry on, but she remains silent for the rest of the time I'm there.

I have also met the three people who rotate responsibility for the dogs' care. Since their original trainer disappeared, they have not found a candidate qualified to continue their regime. One of the caretakers is Jack, who I met along with Tommy and Dale on the first day I came down here. I have developed a lot of respect for Jack, mainly because he isn't afraid of the dogs at all. He walks right into their kennels and lets the dogs jump all over him, and even takes them into the glass enclosure to run through some of their exercises. It's fascinating to watch the communication between them, how they respond to his commands and body language. It makes me wish I had the courage to face them.

After the first day of just standing and watching I felt kind of useless, so I asked Jack if he needed help with anything that didn't have me in direct contact with the dogs. He happily set me to the task of cleaning the kennels while he was working with the dogs. Basically I would pressure wash the floors and walls, scrub out their food and water dishes, and replace their bedding. After a while I've found that I don't minding the dogs' incessant barking as much, and keeping busy with physical activity keeps my mind from focusing on the fear.

The day of my final run in the fear simulations- the day before we will be entering our last stage of training- I had a small interaction with Dante. Four took us up to the room where we will be experiencing our fear landscapes over the next two days, and Dante seemed kind of optimistic about how the fear landscape simulations actually work. He even waited for me at the end of the little tour, giving me a meaningful look as I walked out of the room. I hope this means that he's not as concerned with facing the final test as I am.

I have distracted myself as usual, by heading down to Room A13. Jack is already in the room working with one of the dogs, and he asks how the last day of simulations went. It is not without some pride that I tell him my time, and that it was the fastest of any of the initiates'. He approves, and then presents me with a new proposal.

"It seems like Queen is pretty okay with you." He just witnessed her usual reaction to me entering the room for the first time. "The others are taking advantage of your lack of confidence, but that doesn't seem to matter to her. Which is weird, because she is definitely our alpha dog. Say, would you want to learn how to work with her?"

"Me?" I gasp incredulously. "No way. She's huge, and she knows I'm afraid. She'll rip me to pieces!"

Jack shakes his head. "I don't think she would," he says simply.

"Forget it," I say. Jack looks disappointed. "Not yet, anyway. Maybe after this is over, if I'm better in the simulation…"

"Rain, you do know that the key to conquering most fears is to face them _outside _the simulations, right?" Jack interjects.

"Of course I do," I frown at him. "I'm just not ready for physical interaction with these dogs yet."

He regards me for a long moment.

"I think you'd find that it's a different experience with just one dog instead of a whole pack," he says slowly.

A few days ago, I told Jack about my fear simulation with the dogs: all the details. He applauded me for my escape method, but asked a very interesting question: had I considered facing down the dogs and trying to control them, rather than just running from them?

Of course, this had never occurred to me. Just the same, I know my answer to his new question.

"Not. Ready." I say firmly.

Jack shrugs, and heads for Queen's kennel. I back up, putting a good dozen or so feet between the gate and myself. He slips the leash around the dog's neck and leads her across to the glass enclosure. Once that door is securely closed, I enter the kennel and remove Queen's bowls and bed. I scrub down the walls and floor, wash out the steel bowls and refill one with clean water. As I am unrolling a clean mat in the far corner of the kennel, I hear a noise behind me. I turn to see Jack at the gate of the kennel, with Queen on her leash beside him.

My heart leaps into my throat.

"Jack!" my voice is a strangled cry. "What are you doing?"

"Calm down. I want to try something. Trust me, and do exactly what I say."

"Jack, I told you I'm not ready for this!"

"Rain, just _trust me."_

I drop the mat to the floor and stare at Queen. She isn't moving, but her eyes are fixed on mine. I swallow hard then squeeze my eyes shut, willing my heart to slow down.

"What do you want me to do, Jack?" I whisper hoarsely.

"First, open your eyes. Then, walk toward me. Slowly."

I open my eyes and raise my head. Jack has moved back about six feet from the gate. It's still closer than I would like to be, but I have to do this sooner or later, so…

I move forward, my eyes focused on Queen. I am trying to breathe normally, but I can't. I reach the gate, and Queen settles back on her haunches. She licks her nose, her eyes still on mine. Jack smiles when he sees this.

"See? She's okay with you," he tells me.

"That may be," I reply, "but that doesn't mean that I'm okay with her."

"Understood," Jack says, shrugging nonchalantly. "Now walk out of there and toward the door. Don't look at the dog. You'll be fine, I promise."

I do as he says. I avert my eyes, focusing instead on the door that leads to the entryway. When I reach it, I turn back to face Jack and Queen. My heart is still racing and my chest heaves with each breath. I feel my hands shaking and my knees feel like jelly. Jack is watching me, his expression somehow disapproving. He steps forward and returns Queen hastily to her kennel. She balks at his abrupt handling, and a low growl that turns to a whine at the end escapes her throat.

I try to calm down, focusing on taking deeper breaths and steadying the trembling in my hands. Jack walks toward me. I'm a little angry with him for forcing this on me when I told him I wasn't ready for it yet.

"Jack, that wasn't cool…" I start, but I am cut off quickly when he slams his open palm to my throat, forcing my head back against the steel door with a loud thud. His fingers tighten around the sides of my neck. Pain explodes in the back of my skull, and the edges of my vision fade as the pressure from Jack's hand cuts off my air. At first, I am more confused than I am scared. I reach up with both hands and wrap them around his wrist, clawing, trying to pull his hand from my throat. With his free hand, he seizes both of my wrists and yanks my hands away. His face is now only inches from mine. I can smell his breath as he huffs in my face. His eyes are wide, pupils dilated to the point that the pale blue of his irises has almost disappeared.

"Weak, scared little girl," he growls. "You don't belong in Dauntless if you can't even walk past one dog without pissing yourself. You think the dogs are scary? I'll show you scary, girly. I'll show what real fear is."

I know what's happening, but I can't believe it. I have to fight back, I have to…

I brace my back and neck against the door and swing my right leg up with my knee to my chest. I place my foot in the middle of Jack's stomach and kick out as hard as I can. He moves back, but only a little. He still has a hand on my throat and my hands pinned to my chest. I bring up my other foot, this time connecting with his groin, and I kick out with both feet using the door behind me for leverage. Jack lets out a low groan, and shifts his weight.

In one swift movement, he lifts me by the throat, turns around, and throws me down onto the concrete floor right in front of the door to the glass enclosure. I bring my arms up to protect my head, but pain drives itself into my spine and the back of my ribcage. The wind is knocked out of me. Gasping and wheezing and now very, very afraid, I try to roll over and get to my feet. I get as far as rolling to my right side when Jack is on me again. He slams me down face-first onto the cold floor, pinning me there with a knee driven into the center of my lower back. I can't move, I can't fight back. The side of my head is pressed to the floor, so I can only see him through one eye. Keeping his knee in my back, he seizes the fabric of my shirt in both hands and rips it apart, revealing my bare back to him. He hastily unbuckles his belt as I lash about feebly with my legs, trying to kick him. My arms are at my sides, useless in my position. I would scream if I thought anyone could hear me through two soundproof doors and over the frantic barking of the dogs. My breathing accelerates to the point of near hyperventilation. I feel his hands on the waistline of my jeans, pulling roughly. I feel like I am going to throw up or pass out or both.

I hear the squeal of metal grating on metal accompanied by a ferocious snarl. The snarl is moving. Above me, Jack shouts and his weight shifts suddenly. He is yelling something incoherent, and then his knee slides away and I am partially mobile again. I twist and kick, and a moment later I am free.

But the sounds around me are horrific. It's like my simulation, except the dogs have caught me. I hear Jack screaming, dogs barking, and one dog- very close to me- is snarling viciously. I scramble toward the door to the enclosure in an attempt to get as far away from Jack as I can, but I am too slow. A hand closes around my ankle and drags me backwards. My knees and hands hit the floor hard, and I turn my head to look back.

Jack is bleeding from his head, his face, and his right hand. Behind him, the gate to Queen's kennel stands wide open. Between Jack and the kennel gate is Queen, her jaws firmly locked around Jack's left forearm, and she is dragging him, jerking him away from me.

But his free hand is locked around my ankle. I scream now, and kick at his hand with all my might. I feel bones break as the heel of my boot comes into contact with his fingers and wrist. He screams again, and Queen releases her grip on his arm. I see her crouch down, body poised to attack…

And then she leaps completely over Jack and lands in front of me, rounding on my attacker. There is precious little space between Jack and I, and it is now filled with shaggy black fur. I hear Jack moving again, and a growl rumbles through Queen's body. I curl into a ball, pulling my knees to my chest. I am forced against the glass door by the dog's body pressing against me. I catch glimpses of Jack as he and the dog shift about. Queen weaves and paces warily in front of me while Jack backs away slowly; gasping for air, blood everywhere. I hear his footfalls retreat to the main door, which he then pulls open.

Queen charges again, but she is not fast enough. Jack is through the door and pulling it shut behind him when she reaches it. She barks once at the door, then pauses, and growls a moment later. I think I hear the sound of the second door opening and closing seconds later, but I can't be sure. The other dogs have all fallen completely silent, but my eyes are on Queen alone. She turns back and trots over to me. I am still huddled on the floor, too terrified to move. I am aware that I am whimpering and that tears are streaming down my face. Queen lowers her head and touches her nose to my check for a split second, then with a soft thud she lays down next to me, body pressed against mine, her eyes and ears focused on the door. Her fur is surprisingly soft and she feels very warm. I reach out a quaking hand and place it on her back. She remains perfectly still. I curl my fingers into a fist, gripping a handful of her hair in it. I press my face into her shoulder and let the tears flow.

That is how Dale finds me later. How much later I do not know. I am only aware that someone has entered the room because Queen is suddenly on her feet and I lose my grip on her. She stands over me growling menacingly, the fur along the ridge of her spine standing straight up. I maintain my position on the floor. I can't understand what Dale is saying. It's sort of like being under water; I hear the pitch and tone of voices, but not the words. Dale is alarmed. He calls out a few times, but nothing changes. Queen hovers over me and I am not about to leave her side.

Dale leaves, but returns a little while later with one of the other handlers. With some coaxing, he manages to get Queen to come to him, and he replaces her in her kennel. I am in a daze, but I am very aware of many hands lifting me gently to my feet. Someone places a blanket around my shoulders. I am led to another, dimly lit room where I can smell food, and deposited on a soft couch. Dale and two others are talking in a corner in low voices, and a while later he walks over to me with a mug in his hands. He places it carefully in mine and tells me to drink it. It smells a little like butter. I sip it, and a warm, rich liquid slides down my throat, not at all unpleasant. I keep sipping, feeling a little better each time. But inside I am still quaking.

"Rain?" I hear Dale ask quietly at ne point. He is sitting on an ottoman across from me. I let my eyes flick up to his.

"I know you will not want to talk about this right now, but it is very important," he says, leaning forward. "Looking at the state we found you in… Jack. Did he…?"

"No," I answer hoarsely. "He tried. He would have. But Queen got out and attacked him."

"Queen?"

"The dog."

"Ah," he hesitates, glancing away and then back again.

"You're sure he didn't?" He asks again solemnly.

"I'm sure. My shirt was the worst of the damage," I tell him.

"Okay, then," he nods. "Do you want to go to the infirmary?"

"I was just there the other day. I started to go into shock after a simulation," I reply. "I don't want to go back again."

"Understood," he says. "Well, we have Jack in custody if that makes you feel any better. What he did is a crime, made all the worse because you're an initiate. He's looking at a trial from Candor."

It doesn't make me feel any better, but I tell him I'm relieved to hear that.

In the end, he gets me a new set of clothes from the Lab and walks me up to the showers. He waits for me outside the door and walks me to my dorm after I'm clean and changed.

"If you need anything, come see me or Carla. Four and Harrison know where to find both of us anytime," he tells me. I thank him for everything he's done, and turn to enter the dorm.

"Rain," Dale calls, and I turn back to face him. "You should come back down to the Lab soon. You need to thank that dog."


	34. Chapter 34

Sleep doesn't come easy because I won't let it. I just lived through a nightmare; I don't want to have another haunt me in my sleep. I stack a bunch of my clothes under my pillow to keep me sitting partially upright, a position from which I know I can't fall into a deep sleep. For most of the night I doze, leaning back on the stack. My back and neck are throbbing, but I worry that pain medicine will make me sleep so I choose to just deal with it. I finally find my way to a shallow sleep for a few hours in the early morning, and I wake stiff, sore, and bruised.

At first I worry about what I can wear to hide the bruises on my throat, but after some though I decide that hiding the bruises feels like shame. I know I shouldn't be ashamed of what happened because I did nothing wrong. At the same time, I don't want people to think that I am deliberately exposing them as a cry for attention. In the end, I choose a plain black t-shirt and a pair of cargo pants. The bruises on my wrist and throat show, but the worst ones- on my back- are concealed by the shirt. I walk with my back straight and head held high, not wanting to appear weak or afraid. I am sure that the story of what happened in A13 and Jack's arrest will have circulated throughout the population by the end of breakfast.

I don't need anyone's pity. I don't want it. Pity is what broke Spencer and led him down a path of darkness from which he did not return. I want to get through my fear landscape and start the rest of my life in Dauntless, whatever that entails. That is my only goal now, my only focus.

As predicted, the other initiates have caught some of the details of my attack. Certainly Nate, Joseph, and Nicole knew that something had happened when I came back late to the dorms last night, but to their credit they didn't ask me for details. This morning it seems that every one of them has heard part of the story, but rather than trying to piece them together to get a better picture, they have all embellished their own piece to create a sensational new story. I hear snippets of conversations and whispers from the tables around me. I feel their eyes on me in furtive glances and curious stares No one asks me anything, so I don't offer to correct them. Mostly I feel numb to it all, almost like it happened to someone else, so it's easy enough to shrug off. I know I'm going to have to face it all soon enough, but I'm guessing that the whole event will show up in my fear landscape within the next 48 hours. Until it does, I am taking things one step at a time.

After breakfast, we all gather upstairs in the fear landscape room. All of the initiates are present: transfers and Dauntless-born. Lauren, whose job parallels that of Four and Harrison's but with the Dauntless-born initiates, takes the floor and explains how the fear landscape works: that we will be aware that we are in a simulation and therefore better able to make choices to control and conquer each encounter. While our instructors will not be seeing the scenarios themselves when we enter our own fear landscapes, they will be monitoring reactions like heart rate and respiration, which will tell them our level of fear and how quickly we are able to work through it.

She goes on to explain that a newer version of the serum is being developed; one that contains transmitters that will allow the scenario to be observed on a monitor yet leaves the subject aware that he or she is in a simulation, but it is still in the testing phase and not yet ready for use on the initiates. She finishes by telling us that we will each experience one selection from her fear landscape today; then tomorrow, for our final test, we will experience the full brunt of our own fear landscapes. After that, the initiates who finish in the top ten will attend the initiation ceremony.

There are thirteen of us left. Considering my times recently, my odds look pretty good. I just hope that I have an average-or-lower number of fears that appear in my landscape.

Lauren assigns one of her fears to each of us at random; she appoints me with claustrophobia. The only other initiate whose assignment I take notice of is the one I'd rather not. Dante is assigned uncontrollable bleeding.

I am the sixth to enter the fear landscape, and I soon learn that being inside of someone else's fear is a very strange experience. First of all, I am not claustrophobic, so I react very differently to the scenario than I would have if I, in fact, was. In the simulation, I am walking down a long hallway that looks similar to the one below the Pit that leads to the Lab. I reach door A13 and pull it open, stepping inside and letting the door swing shut behind me.

The room is dark, which it has never been before. The only light comes from the dim bulb over the outside of the door, shining through a narrow window just above the doorknob. I can vaguely make out where the second door should be, so I start walking toward it. I take two steps and my right arm brushes the wall. This is odd because the room is normally ten-by-ten, and I should be nowhere near the wall. I thrust out a hand and sure enough, I am right beside the wall. I take a few more steps and my left shoulder bumps into the opposite wall. I put both hands out to the sides, and I can't even straighten my arms between the walls. As I continue to walk forward, the walls press in on me and I start to worry that I will be crushed to death. I also find it odd that I haven't yet come to the door on the opposite side of the room.

I keep walking.

Soon I am forced to turn my body sideways because the hallway that was once a room has become so narrow that I can't move forward normally. I feel the walls getting closer with each step I take, but it's not the confinement I fear; it's the fact that I am being crushed and I can't reach the exit. Finally I can't move forward any farther, and I am forced to take quick, shallow breaths because the walls are so close together. I can't move forward; I'm trapped. For a moment I struggle to take another step forward, shoving as hard as I can against the walls, but it's no use. I stop moving. I am, at this point, fully aware that I am in a simulation and that I need to find a way out. I try to clear my head, try to slow my breathing like I usually do when I'm nervous.

I think about the dogs on the other side of the door- Queen, specifically. She may very well have saved my life yesterday. She certainly put herself in harm's way, breaking out of her kennel and attacking Jack, then positioning herself between Jack and I. I think back to Dale's words when he dropped me off at the dorm last night:

_You need to thank that dog._

Is that why I'm here? Is that why I came down here today? I realize that I shouldn't even be in that room at this point in time because I am supposed to be three levels above the Pit in the fear landscape room. I turn my head and look back the way I came, and I can see the dimly lit window in the door. I start scooting back along the corridor. It widens gradually each time I move back the way I came, until I reach the door that leads back into the main hallway. I pull it open…

…and open my eyes. I am back in the fear landscape room, largely in the same position in which I started the simulation. I look around the room at the faces of the other initiates. Several are wide-eyed, some are frowning, and some look like they've just been told that unicorns are real. I glance over my shoulder at the timer on the wall.

Five minutes, forty seconds. An absolute record for me, and significantly faster than anyone else's time so far. I feel like I'm in a spotlight. I glance over to where Four, Harrison, and Lauren stand near a computer screen. They are all looking at me in various expressions of scrutiny.

"It's not that bad," I say almost apologetically, "when it's something you're not afraid of."

"Well done," replies Harrison. "You're done. You can either watch the rest or leave for the day."

I opt to stick around. Vince is up next, and he misses my time by a mere ten seconds. He expresses a similar sentiment when he exits the simulation, about it not being difficult for him because it is not something he particularly fears (he was assigned the fear of spiders). Next up is Dante. Lauren approaches him with the syringe loaded with the simulation serum and he squeezes his eyes shut and turns his head away. I glance up at the timer, which starts a few seconds after he's received his injection.

Watching his reaction is like watching my worst nightmare.

The rest of us started and ended the simulation on our feet, but not a minute after the simulation begins, Dante crumples to the ground. His ever-present doctor rushes to his side, prying open his eyelids and shining a light into each eye, calling to the instructors for respiration and heart rate readings. Everything reads well within safe levels, leaving the doctor in a confused crouch beside him, shaking his head. Dante groans, and reaches for the left side of his chest. The doctor again calls for a respiration reading, and again he is informed that everything is within safe limits. The doctor regards Dante for a few seconds, eyes fiercely fixed on his face.

"Pull him," the doctor says finally. "I want him out of that simulation immediately. Something is wrong and I can't tell what it is while he's under."

"Wait," I say, suddenly understanding. The others all turn and look at me.

"Even though the simulations are set in someone else's fear landscape, they can manifest as one of our own if they run parallel, right?" I direct the question to Lauren, who said something like this earlier.

"That's right," she replies.

"Well, in reality, Dante was shot and subsequently lost a lot of blood, right?" I continue. "That's probably what's happening. That scenario has overrun the original program, turning it into one of his own fears."

The doctor stares at me, mouth agape. The instructors glance between him and I expectantly.

"She's right," he concedes. "But if his vitals go off the grid for even a few seconds, I want the simulation terminated."

The room falls into an eerie silence; the only sound being the soft beeps of the monitors and Dante's labored breaths. But none of this lasts long. As the timer hits four minutes, Dante's breathing begins to slow and a few seconds later, he opens his eyes and sits up, looking dazedly around the room. His final time: five minutes, thirty-five seconds.

Beating me by five seconds.

The room is silent for a moment, then the instructors break out into applause. A few of the other initiates applaud him too, but I don't dare. I am downright volatile emotionally right now. But in true Dante fashion, he doesn't respond to the commotion at all. He slowly rises to his feet, dusts himself off, and returns to his spot against the wall as though there was nothing significant about any of this.

After the last of us has had a taste of a real fear landscape, we break for lunch. No one has yet approached me to discuss the topic that they are all still discussing in lowered voices and, occasionally, tones laced with gossip. The last thing I want to hear right now is everyone talking about me, about what happened, even if I can't understand all of what they're saying. I bolt down my lunch and immediately head for the Lab. I am more than a little hesitant to return to the scene of my attack, but I did, after all, choose Dauntless for a reason. I must be brave. Jack isn't there, and he never will be again. I have nothing to be afraid of in Room A13.

When I arrive there ten minutes later, I find that I am alone with the dogs. I notice the difference in their demeanor immediately when I enter the room. They are all more subdued than normal, and Queen isn't barking at all. She is standing perfectly still at the front of her kennel, head down, ears up, staring up at me with her big brown eyes. I walk toward the chain link gate that separates her from me. I notice that the latch has been bent; that must be how she escaped yesterday. Someone bent it back, but hastily, and the original damage is still evident. I run my fingers over the latch and glance down at Queen again. She is watching my every move. When I make eye contact with her this time, she does something I have never seen her do before. Slowly, and only twice, she wags her tail.

My fingers grip the latch on the gate, sliding it up and back at I take a deep breath. I hold it deep in my lungs, and the gate swings open. I step back five paces. Queen hesitates, then walks calmly out of the kennel and right up to me, sniffing at my hands as they hang at my side. I am rooted in place. She is a massive dog; her shoulders easily reach the middle of my hip. I feel her hot breath on the bare skin of my hands with each exhale. She takes one step and then lowers her head to smell my knees and feet. I flex the fingers on my right hand, and Queen sees it immediately. She thrusts the top of her head into my palm. Startled, I take a step back, but she moves with me, shoving her head against my thigh and my hand. I extend my fingers and caress the top of her head. It's bony, but her fur is soft and silky. She looks up at me as I run my hand across the top of her head, and her expression changes. Her eyes, instead of guarded and reserved, look happy; almost like she is smiling. I place my other hand on her neck and start petting her, scratching her behind the ears. Her tail wags again, this time with enthusiasm. I feel my face break into a smile when she turns her head and starts licking my fingers.

And suddenly I am in tears.

So much has happened to me in the last several weeks, and nothing in this world could have ever prepared me for any of it. I made new friends and two of them are now dead. I fell in love and threw it away. I faced one of my worst fears and it conquered itself. I was brutally attacked by someone who told me I could trust him. I have been happier and sadder, felt more secure and more betrayed than I have ever been in my life.

I clutch the shaggy fur of Queen's neck and sink to the ground. More than anything, I feel alone. There are people all around me, but no one I can really talk to. I know I can go to Dale or Carla or Four and they will all politely listen, but they have their lives figured out so much better than I do that I'm afraid I'll just come off sounding like some homesick kid. And I know I can't talk to the other initiates, because they are more interested in gossip than the truth. I do know that there is one person in Dauntless whom I could talk to about all of this, and I may have screwed that up permanently by pushing him away.

Alone in a room with only eight dogs for company, I bury my face in Queen's neck. I cry; I sob great, body-wracking sobs. Queen whines softly on occasion and licks my tear stained cheeks. Only one day of initiation left. I wonder of anything will ever be normal again.


	35. Chapter 35

It is a long time before the tears stop. I cry for every reason that I've kept bottled up inside of me. I cry for leaving my family on Choosing Day, because I knew I was leaving them but never gave them any warning. I cry for my shortcomings in Stage One. I cry for the fears that I will face tomorrow, and for the possibility of not finishing in the top ten. I cry for the way Jack violated me, for how helpless he made me feel, and for the way Queen so selflessly defended me.

But mostly I cry for the terrible thing I did to Dante. I made him believe that he wasn't good enough for me. Made him believe that I was too self-centered to help him. I cry for the trust that he put in me, and how I deliberately let him down. I never wanted to do it, but will he believe me when I tell him that? And how am I ever going to find the right way and the right time to tell him?

So much has changed in so little time. I know nothing will ever be the same, no matter what happens tomorrow. And that means that my idea of "normal" has to change, because everything else has, and will continue to do so.

I have to be ready, and I have to be unafraid. Dauntless.

Long after I have sobbed my last, I am still sitting on the floor with Queen beside me. I keep my hand on her at all times, not wanting to break the connection that we have developed. The other dogs pace in their kennels, watching us. They whine occasionally, but the barking has ceased. At length, I realize that today would have been Jack's day to care for and work with the dogs. It's long past the time that he would have arrived, and it occurs to me that a replacement probably hasn't yet been assigned because the canine program is on the brink of being shut down by Dauntless leadership. I give Queen a long look as I weigh the pros and cons of taking on this task. Finally, I stand and approach the next kennel in the row.

I take each dog out using the slip lead that hangs on a hook near the door. Each dog permits me to open the gate to its kennel wide enough to put my arm through and place the loop around its neck. Only when the leash is on do I open the gate all the way and lead the dog out and across the floor to the glass enclosure. I remove the leash as the dog walks through that door, then service each kennel as usual. I keep Queen beside me the whole time, trusting that she will intervene if anything goes awry. Luckily for us, the dogs are well behaved the entire time and I manage to get all eight kennels cleaned and all eight dogs fed and watered. I also make it a point to start learning the names of the other seven: besides Queen, there are the boys Ace, Lance, Trip, Fleet, and Drift; and the girls Rose and Belle.

When at last I have completed my task, I return Queen to her kennel. Just as I am sliding the latch on her gate, I hear the door to the room open. I tense up immediately as an image of Jack entering the room flashed in my mind. I turn with a start to face whoever has entered, my heart in my throat. I am relieved when I see that it is Dale and Carla.

"Hey Rain," Dale greets me, his arm draped casually around Carla's shoulders. "How are things going in here with the dogs?"

"A lot better than I thought," I admit. "I took them all out today because…"

I falter, not wanting to speak that name. I look down, away from their faces.

"…Because I figured no one else was coming to work with them," I conclude.

"You did _what?_" Dale asks, his eyes widening in disbelief.

"I took each dog out, one at a time, and put them in the glass room. I cleaned their kennels, and then put the dogs away. One by one," I explain.

Carla and Dale glance at each other with an expression I can't define. No one says anything for a moment.

"Well, that's one hell of a breakthrough for you," Dale says. I stick my fingers through the mesh of Queen's kennel and she licks them affectionately. Dale lets out a low whistle.

"I just kept her with me the whole time," I nod at Queen. "I figured I could trust her if… if something went wrong."

"Dale," Carla says gently to her husband, "would you mind if I talked to Rain alone for a minute?"

He shakes his head and gives her shoulder a squeeze before he leaves us alone.

I don't say anything. I don't look at her. I know what this is going to be about, and after the snippets of gossip and the shunning from the other initiates that I've experienced today, I really do not want to talk about it. I grip the wire links of Queen's kennel door and stare at the floor. Presently, Carla sighs.

"I know you probably don't want pity, or for anyone to say that they know how you feel right now, so I'm offering neither," she says. "First, because I believe that you are stronger than that; and second, because I honestly _don't_ know how you feel. I can only imagine how awful it must be to experience something like that. So I will only say this: you aren't alone here. You do have friends; people who like you and care about you. If you need to talk, or even if you don't but you just don't want to be alone, we're here. Also, I wanted to let you know that after tomorrow's evaluation, you can come see us about job assessment and placement. I know of a couple positions you might do well in, if you qualify."

I don't reply. After a few minutes, she moves toward the door.

"Carla," I call softly as she reaches the door, my voice breaking. She stops. "Thank you."

"Anytime, Rain," she murmurs. "And I mean that." And with that, she leaves the room.

A few minutes later, I step away from the kennel gate and survey the dogs. While I am still not one hundred percent comfortable in their presence, today proved that I could interact with them on some level without being paralyzed by my fear of being attacked by them. I am beginning to understand that working through this fear is mainly about establishing trust with the dogs. I think about what Dale told me the first time he brought me to see the dogs: how they were looking for someone to take over the dogs' training so the program wouldn't be shut down. With the right guidance, I might just be able to do it. But I also think about what Spencer and I discussed all those weeks ago, about the Perimeter Guard, and suddenly I am in a quandary. I want to work with the dogs, especially Queen, but I also want to be on the Perimeter Guard squad.

And that's when the meaning of Carla's suggestion hits me.

_I know of a couple positions you might do well in, if you qualify…_

I feel a smile tug at the corners of my mouth. I must do very, very well in my fear landscape tomorrow.

Feeling encouraged by all this, I check all of the dogs' kennels one last time to make sure that they have adequate food and water and to ensure that their gates are all securely latched. Finding nothing amiss, I return to the Pit. It's still too early for dinner, so I wander over to the railing beside the chasm. There are a few small groups standing around; some look like they are starting in on the liquid festivities for tomorrow's revelry a bit early. I spot Jane and her friends from the climbing wall standing among one of the groups. She sees me as well, and raises her flask in my direction. I wave and continue down the rail to the far end where the light is the dimmest and the spray from the water crashing on the rock below is the heaviest. I close my eyes as I step into the veil of cool mist, letting it engulf me along with the perpetual dusk at this end of the chasm. I feel like I can disappear here, and no one would find me if I didn't want them to.

_You do have friends; people who like you and care about you._

I try to shove Carla's words from my head, but they won't go. Something about what she said needles at my brain, some meaning that I'm overlooking. They are not meant to be taken just at face value. I know that I can go to her or to Dale to talk: Dale told me as much yesterday. It's not like Carla to repeat something that I already know, and she would know that Dale already encouraged me to seek either of them for the same reason.

I lean against the railing, puzzling over this. Was she referring the other initiates? No, she couldn't have meant them. All they have done is steal glances at me and gossip about what happened. Not one of them has even tried to approach me on the subject. Did she mean Jane, with whom I had a brief but memorable training session? The staff at the infirmary?

None of these seem quite right. All of these people have seen initiates come and go: it's part of Dauntless life; part of the Faction system and its laws. They might all be a little disappointed if I don't make the cut and end up factionless or if I chose to leave voluntarily because of what happened yesterday, but I can't say that I think any of them care enough to call me a friend.

I sigh deeply, turning this over and over in my mind as I stand in my cool, dark corner.

When I open my eyes, I am abruptly presented with the answer.

I watch him stride away from the rail and move through the crowds in the direction of the corridor to his dorm, his ponytail swinging slightly between his shoulder blades.

My heart feels like it weighs ten tons as I take one step, then another, then another… and then I am hurrying to catch up with him.


	36. Chapter 36

The next hour is like a game of hot pursuit. I've made up my mind to approach Dante and finally talk to him, but I can't seem to get him at the right time. As the dinner hour approaches, more and more people filter into the Pit and the last thing I want to do is risk a public scene when I finally do this. I trail far enough behind him that he won't notice me, and the crowd is thick enough that each time he turns or starts to look around I can easily slip behind a group of people to avoid being seen by him. Eventually he leaves the Pit and begins the ascent up one of the narrow walkways carved into the stone walls. This is when it gets harder to follow him, because there are fewer people on this walkway and I must drop farther back in order to maintain my stealth.

He walks for what seems like forever. Twice I think I've lost him, only to discover that he had crossed a landing to take a different walkway. I eventually reach a landing that leads to a housing block that looks vaguely familiar, although I can't recall exactly when I was here before. Maybe it just looks like somewhere else that I've been in the compound. It is at this landing that Dante has halted his ascent. The entire block is a flurry of activity: a good number of the doors stand open as people move constantly in and out, carrying everything from transport containers to floor lamps to gun cases. Dante walks toward one of the open doors and disappears inside. He reemerges a moment later with his brother Dameon behind him. I dodge behind the corner of the walkway, afraid for a moment that they have seen me. After enough time has elapsed that they could have reached my hiding place and they have not appeared, I poke my head slowly around the corner. They both stand not ten feet away with their backs to me, facing the door from which they just emerged. Dameon is speaking.

"Right beside each other. Are you sure you still want this one?" He is asking Dante.

Dante waits a moment before replying, "Yeah, I'm sure. I don't really have time to look for another one."

It occurs to me what is happening: these are the apartments that are being vacated for the use of the initiates- the ones who pass the final stage of training- after tomorrow night. Dameon is one of the people relocating, and it seems that Dante is taking up residence in his old place. He has chosen that specific flat for a reason, but I didn't catch enough of the conversation for me to learn why.

"Understandable. Well, it'll be all yours in two days," he pauses, turning to regard Dante with a look of admiration. "I can't believe my baby brother is about to become full-blown Dauntless." He shakes his head and gives Dante a light punch in the arm.

"Don't call me that," Dante replies, but I can hear the smile in his voice. "I'm bigger than you, anyway."

Dameon laughs, "Yeah, I guess I'll need to watch myself from now on, won't I?"

"Maybe," the smile is still in his voice. "Listen, I'll let you get back to it. I just wanted to see if you needed any help."

"Nah, I'm good," Dameon says. "Besides, you shouldn't be doing strenuous work right now."

"Oh, I didn't tell you: I was cleared this morning. About 99% healed, so I can pretty much go back to my usual stuff."

My heart does a backflip. Dante is going to be okay!

"Wow, that is great news!" Dameon exclaims. "Congrats, Dante."

"Thanks, man," Dante says. "It feels pretty good, let me tell you. Anyway, I'm off. Catch you later tonight."

I duck back around the corner as Dameon starts to move away and Dante is turning back. I consider making a run for it, getting as far down the walkway as I can to keep Dante from seeing me. But why did I go through all the trouble of following him up here? I press my back against the wall and wait. A few seconds later, he enters my field of vision, heading back down the walkway. He nearly walks right past me.

"Hey," I say, trying to sound casual as he draws level with me. His head snaps around with a start and he halts abruptly, eyes growing intense as they find mine.

"Hey," he says quietly, sounding nowhere near as confident as I did. "What are you doing here?"

I shrug. "I followed you."

He frowns slightly. "Why?"

_Here goes._

I move away from the wall, and take one step toward him.

"Because I want to talk to you," I say firmly.

"Okay," he replies slowly, still looking unsure.

"Can we go somewhere more private?"

"Sure. Where?"

"That's my question. You still know this compound a lot better than I do," I admit. I take another step toward him. I am less than three feet away from him now, the closest I've been to him since I ran out of the infirmary the night before Stage Two began. I can almost feel the heat of his skin. That old familiar energy is back; the charge between us that's almost electrical. But now it seems to have intensified thanks to the elephant in the room: the looming tension between us.

He hesitates, thinking. Then something strange happens to his face. For a second he closes his eyes, clenching his jaw as though fighting some fleeting, unseen pain. When he opens his eyes, he glances briefly back over his shoulder. I try to follow his gaze, but he stands between whatever he's looking for and me. A split second later, his eyes are back on mine.

I see so many things in his eyes. There is what I always saw before: their unusual color, the undeniable intensity of his gaze, the way they burn right into mine as though they were looking right into my heart and mind. But there is also something new there that was never there before. I can't quite define it, but it is something dark; something haunted. At first I expect it to vanish the moment he blinks like so many other emotions I have seen forming within his eyes, but this one remains. I tear my gaze from his before it engulfs me.

"Okay," he says at last. "Follow me."

I follow him, aching the entire time to walk beside him, to lace my fingers into his, to feel the familiar warmth of his palm pressed to mine. But he makes no move to take my hand, never positioning himself in a way that invites me to walk at his side. I begin to wonder if I've made a mistake, and fear, again, that I have damaged this thing beyond repair.

He leads me to the simulation room that the initiates have recently abandoned in favor of the fear landscape room. I am surprised to learn that the door is not locked, but when Dante pulls it open, I see why: all of the equipment has been removed save for the chair in which we sat as we underwent the simulations. While Dante is turning on the lights and closing the door behind us, I walk to the chair and stare at it. I run my fingertips over the headrest and remember all the times that I sat reclined in it, catching whiffs of Dante's scent on that headrest, feeling his fading body heat in the cushions. I close my eyes and my heart rate picks up. I feel nervous and unstable, aware that much of this has a lot to do with what happened the last time I was alone in a room with a guy. I turn back to Dante.

He is facing me, watching me, with his back against the door. That haunted, dark look is more prevalent now than it was before. I feel my pulse quicken, and an old familiar heat in my ears. I swallow hard, trying to push these reactions back down inside of me. I drop my gaze and take a seat on the edge of the chair. Neither of us speaks.

I am keenly aware of every sound in the room. I hear my own breathing and can hear the pressure of my pulse in my ears. I hear the scuff of fabric on plastic as I shift in my seat. I can also hear the whispers of Dante's breathing, wishing at the same time that it were closer to me so I could feel it and farther away so I couldn't hear it. I close my eyes, recalling with a twinge that travels from my chest to the pit of my stomach the dream that I had of him asleep beside me with his arms around me, so vivid that as I slowly woke I swore I could feel the pressure of each place where our bodies touched.

"I dreamed about you one night a while back," I say at last, at a loss for where else to start. "I dreamed that I could feel you close to me, like I could… I don't know. It was so real. I woke up and I thought you were there, in the room with me."

"Some dream," he replies quietly. He seems like he wants to say more, but doesn't.

"Look, I don't know where I'm going with this. I don't even know where I should start. I owe you a huge apology and an even bigger explanation. I've owed you these things since we started Stage Two. But I'm just scared that I'm going to mess everything up."

"Oh, I don't think it could get any more messed up," he says. I almost lash out at him, but I catch myself. His words bear no malice. They sounded… sad, longing. I nod.

"My fault," I say, raising a hand. I let it flop into my lap a second later. Dante doesn't argue. "I have my reasons for doing what I did," I continue, "and they probably aren't what you think."

"Care to elaborate?" He asks. I can feel his eyes burning into me, even though I haven't looked directly into them since I sat down.

I sigh heavily, and let the words spill out of me.

"I want to, I do. In fact, there's nothing I want more right now. But I can't. Not yet; not until I know everything is going to be okay. I wish I could say more than that, Dante, I really do. But there's just too much at stake right now, and if I say too much something horrible could happen. I really don't mean to be so cryptic, but I want you to know that I never betrayed what you told me and I never will. Please, I just need you to trust me…"

The sudden physical impact of his body against mine makes me gasp audibly. His arms are around my shoulders, but this isn't what I thought it would be like. I feel panic grip my heart and I throw my hands out to brace against him. An image of Jack flashes in my mind and I shove Dante away. He releases my shoulders and takes a step back. I scramble backwards into the seat of the chair.

"Oh God, Rain…" he starts, staring at me in horror. "I didn't even think. Oh God, I am so sorry. I didn't mean to scare you."

"It's okay," I say, even though it's not. I wanted to touch Dante, I really did. And he is not Jack. So why did I react like that?

"No, it's not okay," he shakes his head. "I should have known better. It's just… oh, you have no idea. Or maybe you do, I don't know. The last few weeks, I have had so many questions about why you did what you did. But just now, right then, I don't know. It didn't matter to me anymore, just because you said you have a reason. And that I can trust you."

I feel my jaw drop. "You don't doubt me? You don't think what I did was out of selfishness? Or weakness?" This is not what I expected.

He shakes his head again and very slowly moves to the side of the chair.

"Give me your hand, Rain."

I hesitate, looking up into the impossible depths of his eyes.

"You said I have to trust you. Now, how about returning the favor?" Dante opens his palm to receive my hand. I close my eyes and give him my hand. Gently he folds his fingers around mine and pulls it toward him. My fingertips eventually come into contact with the rough fabric of his shirt.

"Do you feel that?" He asks quietly. My eyes are still closed. I concentrate for a moment and then feel the rhythmic thumping.

"I feel your heartbeat," I tell him.

"Exactly," he says. "Now, think about why you can feel it at this moment."

"Because you put my hand on your chest?"

"There's more to it than that." His voice is low and very serious. I pause for a moment and concentrate on the thud, thud, thud in his chest. "Here, this will help."

He takes my hand away for a moment and a soft rustling sound, then he pulls my hand toward him again, gently pressing it to his chest again. My eyes fly open in surprise.

I am touching bare skin.

His hand holds mine gently but steadily. My fingertips glide against his skin until they touch a small depression where the skin is rougher: the scar from the bullet's entry wound.

I feel the crease form between my eyebrows, as I realize what he means. He sees this.

"Tell me." He says. I open my mouth but no words come out.

"Tell me," he repeats a moment later. "I want to hear you say it."

When it comes, my voice is a whisper. "You are alive because of me."

He nods. "Your blood is in my veins, Rain. How could I ever believe you would betray me or hurt me for some petty reason, when I know you made the choice that kept me alive? Part of you is in me, always. And for that, I will always trust you. But knowing what it's like to be without you, that is the worst thing I could imagine."

And that is when I know that it has all worked, and that everything will be okay. But I still can't tell him everything I want to say.

"You deserve so much better," I whisper. I don't know if he knows to what I am referring, but he squeezes my hand in response. That's when I realize that I'm crying again. Tears are streaming down my face unchecked as I weep silently for everything that has happened, everything that is happening, and for everything that is yet to come. As I swipe at them with my free hand, Dante takes a seat on the edge of the chair beside me. He releases my hand, but I keep it pressed to his chest. He brushes the stray hairs away from my forehead with one hand. His other hand he brings to his lips, pressing his fingertips against them. Those fingertips gently touch my forehead a moment later, and I see a tear slide from the corner of Dante's left eye.


	37. Chapter 37

Witnessing Dante lose control of his emotions is bittersweet. On one hand, he has always been such a pillar of strength. His reputation among his peers before I entered their lives was one of an aloof, distant loner who excelled at everything that a Dauntless should. Even later, when his life hung in the balance as he lay in the infirmary with a bullet wound in his chest, he showed his warrior's strength and survived. On the other hand, to know that he would show his more vulnerable side to me now, when things between us are unstable at best, even though he has just given me every reason to believe that he will stand by me no matter what. It is heart-wrenchingly poetic.

For several minutes we sit beside each other on the chair, me pressed against the backrest and him balanced on the side of the seat, tears streaming from our eyes. He makes no attempt to move closer to me, or I to him. I wonder just how much he knows about what happened with Jack the day before. I assume he knows enough. It is evident that he has heard something, but exactly what I will not ask. I am not ready to talk about it with anyone.

After a while the quiet sobs subside but we still cling to each other's hands. Slowly, because neither of us is in any hurry to end this reunion, we compose ourselves. Dante is the first to stand, letting my fingers slide from his grasp.

"We should probably head back to the Pit," he murmurs. "Last chance for dinner before final testing."

I sputter a laugh. It sounds forced.

"You make it sound like we're going off to meet our doom," I say flatly.

"Well, you never know," Dante replies.

"Cheery as ever, I see."

He smiles one of those small, charming smiles that I have missed so much.

We leave the room separately, back to our old trick of spacing our departures and arrivals in order to keep others from seeing us together. The need for this tactic will be eliminated in just a couple more days. After our final test and initiation, we will be considered full-fledged members of Dauntless. At that point, our personal lives become our own and whom we are seen with won't matter as much.

Dante and I aren't the only couple out of this crop of initiates. Besides us, there are two transfers: Joseph- formerly of Amity, like myself- and Nicole who came from Candor; and Nate, another Candor transfer, and Jacqueline, who is Dauntless-born. Dante and I became _the_ high-profile couple because of his loner reputation, and after a tragic mishap that left two of my friends dead and Dante seriously wounded, it seems like everyone knew we were an item.

That, of course, changed when I inexplicably broke off our relationship while Dante was still recovering from his gunshot wound. I had my reasons for doing what I did, but things got blown out of proportion and I ended up hurting a lot more people than just Dante. To be forgiven by him, even though he still does not know the motives behind my actions, gives me hope that I can repair the damage I've done to other relationships here. But that will all have to wait until after tomorrow.

I leave the simulation room first, as I usually arrive in the Pit earlier than Dante for meals. Tonight I am later than usual, but of course I still arrive before Dante so when he strolls in a few minutes after me, nothing seems out of the ordinary. We sit in our usual spots at our usual tables, meaning we have our backs to each other. I have no idea what's going through Dante's head as we consume our meals, but as for myself, I am constantly aware of his proximity to me in the room. I try to imagine what he's thinking, or what he's eating, or whom he's talking to and what they talk about. I am completely distracted by my thoughts of him, as though my mind is making up for all the weeks I spent pushing Dante from my thoughts.

When I finish my meal and rise from the table, I glance casually behind me to see that Dante has already left. My heart sinks briefly with disappointment, but I remind myself that we are pretty much back to square one. I think back to when we first began spending time together: stealing away after hours for training sessions, following each other at a distance to places where we could talk or just be alone together. This isn't all that different, really. We have reestablished ourselves in each other's lives on some level, and I am certain that things will move forward from here, but we are once again keeping this between us.

It's hard to believe that was all just a few weeks ago. It feels like a lifetime.

I return to the dorm for what will be my second to last night in my bed there. Joseph and Nate are there, both with their footlockers pulled out to the middle of the floor, rearranging their belongings in preparation for the move out. Both look up as I walk in, but both also look away too quickly. They mumble greetings while keeping their eyes averted, trying to look as focused as possible on their tasks of packing their meager belongings. My reply is almost too bright, and ends up feeling just as forced as their actions. The tension in the room is palpable, so to escape it I grab a towel and a clean set of clothes and hit the showers.

I have come to enjoy my after-dinner showers. They provide me with the rare opportunity to be alone on my own terms. I can center myself after a rough day, or just let my mind wander as the hot water relaxes me. Tonight is no exception. I find myself thinking ahead to tomorrow's fear landscape evaluations and initiation ritual. I am anxious about doing well, anxious about my ranking, anxious about moving up to the housing blocks, anxious about the possibility of being cut. But no, I have to do well on that final test tomorrow. So much depends on it.

Clean and rejuvenated, I head back to the dorm. Nate is gone, and Joseph and Nicole are sitting on Joseph's bed, heads inclined toward each other, speaking in hushed voices. Neither acknowledges me, so I walk right past without a word. I drop my dirty clothes on my bed and hang my towel on its hook on the wall. I drag my footlocker out from beneath my bed, and toss the dirty clothes inside. Just before I close the lid, I notice the only article of clothing that is neatly folded and not entangled with dirty laundry: my dress that I bought for Visiting Day. The dress that, I found out later, Dante had designed with me in mind. It remains the single most beautiful thing I have ever owned. Slowly, almost reverently, I remove the dress from my footlocker. I glance over at Nicole and Joseph. They are holding hands tightly and speaking in voices so low that I can't understand a word. They are paying no attention to me whatsoever. I unfold the dress and hold it out, once again admiring the flowing, comfortable style and feather-soft fabric. Is this dress an actual representation of how Dante sees me? It's a humbling thought. I've never thought of myself as physically beautiful, but this dress certainly is. Dante, on the other hand, is extremely attractive: tall, toned, well balanced, and the way he carries himself like he has all the self-confidence in the world but no idea how to use it. Not to mention his amazing, fire-tinged brown eyes.

Clutching the dress to my chest, I close the lid on my footlocker and shove is back in place. I climb into my bed, holding the dress in my hands so I can feel its perfect silkiness and be reminded of the best reasons I have to do well tomorrow. As I drift off to sleep, I think I hear the soft, choppy sound of someone smothering sobs in a pillow…

The next time I open my eyes, it is morning. The first thought in my head is: "today I have to face my fear landscape." The thought is not as mortifying as I thought it would be, but that's not to say that I am looking forward to it like a picnic. I am definitely nervous about it, but mostly I want to get it over with. It is possible that I am even more anxious about Dante's outcome than my own. I have all but promised him that I would tell him everything after we have completed our initiation. That, of course, means that we both have to end up ranked in the top ten. For Dante, it also means that he must keep his deepest secret from becoming his greatest fear.

I lie in bed for several minutes, clutching the dress to my throat while curled into a ball. Then, at last, I deem it time to rise and face my last day as a Dauntless initiate, come what may.


	38. Chapter 38

If the Pit was chaotic before, it is absolute pandemonium now. I have never seen so many Dauntless in one place before. I am confronted with a veritable sea of black clothing as I enter, and practically have to resort to combat tactics to get some breakfast. I don't even bother looking for a place at a table, but instead duck into a vacant corner and crouch with my back against the wall, plate balanced on my knees. I am so overwhelmed by the combination of this mass commotion and the anxiety for what looms just a few short hours in my future that I don't even taste my food. I'm not even hungry, really. I eat because I know I have to.

After breakfast, I hope to find a little peace and quiet someplace where I can focus on what's coming. In Stage Two, I experienced six fears. There was the first two: the countless clones of myself overwhelming me in the white room, and the hundreds of gray and brown dogs chasing me through the city. After that came my fear of having no control over a situation, in which I was locked on the outside of the fence on the marsh side after dark; and my fear of utter isolation, this time my friends and family faded into nothing one by one and I was powerless to stop it; waking up in the Factionless sector of the city under the belief that joining Dauntless had been a dream; and my most recent fear was falling from the top of the Hub. I am well aware that I will face those and, in all likelihood, many more in my fear landscape today.

Replaying how I reacted in those simulations before and how I want to handle them today have become my primary focus at the moment, although the brief time I spent with Dante yesterday still hangs around the edges of my thoughts. I can never expel him fully from my mind. I just don't want to dwell on too much of what happened between us right now because I'm still not sure what it means. There will be more time for that later, and the outcome of this final exam will determine everything.

The only place I am able to find any peace is back in the dorm. Nicole, Joseph, and Nate are nowhere to be found, so I end up sitting on the floor with my back against the bed, replaying my scenarios over and over in my head until I am pretty certain that I have them memorized. When I finally decide that I've done all that I can to prepare mentally, I briefly consider going down to the Lab to pay Queen and the other dogs a quick visit. In the end, however, I decide against it for two reasons. Number one: the crowd in the Pit had grown to an insane level and fighting through it to get to the Lab and back up would be hellish, and could make me late for the test. Secondly, it would feel like a final farewell when I leave that room today, knowing that the possibility exists that I may end up getting cut. I decide instead that I will make the trip down to the Lab after the initiation ceremony, to give me something more to look forward to afterwards.

With about an hour to go, I change into one of my combat suits. I know I don't have to wear it today because I won't be doing any real fighting, I figure it won't hurt to show up looking like I'm ready for anything. As I am rifling through them, I come across the one that was damaged in my first fight against Nate. I haven't worn it since that day, but seeing it brings back the memory of the first time that Dante and I spent quality time together. I smile a little, thinking back to that night by the chasm as I run my thumb back and forth over the damaged fabric a few times. Then, resolutely, I change into the damaged suit. Maybe it's for luck, maybe it's because I believe that keeping my memories close will help me through this, or maybe it's just because I hope that Dante will see it and remember what I remember about this suit. Maybe it's even a little bit of all of this.

I leave the dorm for the last time as an initiate and begin my journey to the fear landscape room and the rest of my life.

I arrive with plenty of time to spare, even though it took significantly longer to get to the room than usual because the crowd in the Pit has surged to monolithic proportions. As I approach the entrance to the room, I see a line of other initiates who are waiting for their runs. As per usual, they are seated against the wall. We will be taking our final test in ranking order, from last to first. Until recently I had been pointedly avoiding the scoreboards during Stage Two, because I was afraid that Dante's rank would slip drastically and I would be helpless to do anything about it. However, I found that I had nothing to worry about when I sneaked a glance in two days ago: Dante is still ranked first, and to my surprise I learned that my own rank has rocketed from eleventh to sixth.

I take my seat on the floor with the others. Ahead of me in line are the initiates who are ranked seventh through thirteenth. I see both Joseph and Nicole among them. I was shocked to see their names toward the bottom of the list as they both had ranked far higher in Stage One. The others filter in gradually, and the final tests begin. The initiates are ushered into the large room where we are seated in two rows of chairs against the far wall. Opposite us, behind a series of monitors, are the five leaders of Dauntless, including Max and Eric. They will be observing the tests from here, while our instructors watch from an adjacent room. The purpose for this, it was explained, is to eliminate contact between the initiates and the instructors, which could have an effect on the test results.

Joseph is ranked thirteenth, so he enters the simulation first. The Dauntless leaders watch him closely, scrutinizing every minute detail of Joseph's behavior during the test. I try to watch him, but after a few minutes I find that it's almost painful. He seems to be having trouble, and at one point seems close to panicking. I avert my eyes and look at the other initiates instead. This is when I notice that not all thirteen of us are here: Jacqueline, Vince, Nate, Seneta, and Dante are absent. I experience a brief moment of terror when I wonder of something has happened to them, but it is quelled within a minute by the appearance of Nate and Jacqueline. They take the seats to my right, both still pointedly not looking at me. I catch myself rolling my eyes. I wish they would stop acting like this. I lean over to Jacqueline and ask if she's seen the others. She whispers back that they are on their way; the top-ranked initiates often don't want to sit through everyone else's fear landscapes, so they don't show up until about halfway through the tests. I thank her, feeling reassured. She looks at me quizzically for a moment, but as I start to turn back to her, she turns away quickly and whispers something to Nate. I sigh in mild frustration.

The only thing I am paying close attention to is the times of each test. The simulation of the fear landscape leaves its subject aware that he or she is in a simulation. Additionally, we have all been running through individual fear simulations for some time now, so the times of the tests are pretty fast. Joseph takes eleven minutes. Next up is Reece; he takes nine minutes and forty-eight seconds. Then Nicole takes fourteen minutes and ten seconds. And on, and on, and on.

The clock has just started on Jayce's test when the door to the room opens to admit first Dane, and hot on his heels, Seneta. She looks frustrated; he wears an expression like a mask of stone. There is a strange energy between them that I can't quite interpret until Dante takes a seat directly behind me, leans forward, and drapes his arms around my shoulders, propping his chin on my shoulder. His hands are trembling slightly and his breath is a little ragged. I am surprised by his sudden, bold show of affection toward me in public. Almost reflexively, I reach up and gently grasp his forearms where they cross over my collarbones. His lips are right beside my ear.

"Some people," he whispers curtly, "just don't know when to quit." He gives my shoulders a protective squeeze. I glance over at Seneta, who is standing at the end of my row of chairs. Her expression changes from one of frustration to one of smoldering loathing when our eyes meet. I can only guess what happened. I might have to pry the details out of Dante later. But for now…

Jayce's test clocks out at ten minutes flat. When he opens his eyes, Dante is still leaning forward but his hands have moved down to my waist. Jayce is ranked seventh, so that means I am next. I reach for Dante's hands, pressing my palms to his knuckles as I squeeze them one last time before I rise and walk to the center of the room while Eric escorts Jayce to the exit. The youngest Dauntless leader returns a moment later with a syringe filled with ten ccs of fear serum, just for me. I feel the needle's bite in the side of my neck, and I close my eyes.

One.

The countless faceless clones of myself enter the white room, trying to overwhelm me. But I am different than them: I am wearing Dauntless black, not Amity red and yellow. I grasp my arm where the fabric of my combat suit is ripped. I think: _this happened to me; not to anyone else_. I raise my head and stand against them, armed with memories and experiences that are mine alone. The clones vanish.

Two.

The dogs are chasing me. I am fleeing as fast as I can. I am cornered on top of the old train station. I could jump to the steel beam and scale the ladder, but the dogs will still be there, waiting for me to come back down. I remember facing another group of dogs once: in my aptitude test. I remember that the Erudite man who I stabbed in that simulation was controlling the dogs with his voice. He used a strange word to make the first dog stop attacking… what was that word? I wrack my brain, closing my eyes and crouching on top of the crumbling roof, remembering, remembering… and then I have it. I turn back and face the dogs, making eye contact with the largest, fastest one who continually jumps to try to reach me. I bellow the word that the Erudite man used and the dogs go silent and still. I stay focused on the alpha dog.

Three.

I am outside of the fence on the marsh side. I am alone and night is falling. The Dauntless who patrol the wall are paying no attention to my calls for help. I try to walk toward the wall, but I never get any closer to it. I try running, but the result is the same I must reach the wall, I must. There is safety within the wall, but outside there is only danger and death. I can't reach it no matter how fast I run, nor can I get the attention of the Dauntless guards no matter how loud I call. I stop struggling and try to think of another way. I look around for something on the ground that could help me. I spot a fist-sized stone in the mud near my foot. I scoop it up, take aim, and hurl it at the fence. It slams into the chain link with a loud crash, and the guards turn to look. They turn on a huge spotlight and shine it right on me. One runs for the gate, ordering it to be opened.

Four.

I wake up on a cold slab of concrete instead of my now familiar bed in the transfer dorms at Dauntless. I open my eyes and find that I am surrounded by dozens of people. Thin, bedraggled, dirty, and all outside in a very run-down part of the city: they are the factionless and I am one of them. The Choosing Ceremony burns in my head like a dream, fading with each heartbeat. I was never Dauntless. I failed, or I dreamed it all, and now I am factionless. I feel hopelessness and fear gripping at my heart and I curl into a ball, wrapping my arms around my legs. I failed, and I will never amount to anything now. My hand passes over a fray on my sleeve that feels oddly familiar. I glance at it, and remember how I got the rip: Nate attacked me with a shard of hard plastic during training. _Dauntless_ training. _I am Dauntless!_

Five.

I am on top of the Hub, and the wind is terrible. It is winter, and there is a storm blowing in from the northeast. The wind rips at my limbs, pushing and shoving me toward the edge. I'm going to fall, I'm going to fall and I'm going to die. My fingers scrabble for purchase on the slick surface of the wall beside me as the wind keeps pushing me back. I lean into it, looking around for anything to hold onto. There is nothing. I flail wildly as I try to keep my balance on the edge of the building. The wind picks up, and I know that one more gust will send me over. I can't let myself fall; I can't let myself die. I face into the wind. I duck my head down and throw my arms out in front of me. I crouch lower. The wind is still pushing me, I can't stop it, but I figure that if I get lower to the ground I will be more anchored. I'm fine if I am on solid ground. It's not the height that is so frightening to me; it's the fall. If I can lay flat, I'll become more streamlined and maybe, just maybe, I won't fall. I concentrate on getting myself into a horizontal position alongside the slick wall.

Six.

I am in a room with many people, all of them familiar. Everyone I have ever cared about is here: my mother, my father, my brother and his wife, my friends from Amity and from school, and all my new friends in Dauntless. Dante is here too, right at my side, smiling and holding my hand. Then, one by one, they all begin to fade away. Each of them casts a longing glance at me before they vanish. I reach out to them, or move toward them, trying to catch them before they blink out of existence, but I am always just one step too late. After a moment I am utterly alone in a colorless, featureless world. I don't want to be alone. Alone is worse than factionless. Alone, I cannot survive. I want to be with the others, with the people I love, wherever they have gone. I close my eyes and will myself to go wherever they have gone. I feel myself blink out of existence, just as they did.

Seven.

I am on the old platform on the edge of the Dauntless compound. I stand facing the far end, the dark and shadowy end. Spencer has just emerged from the shadows. He is holding a loaded pistol and it is aimed at my head. Behind me, I hear running feet. I know that I will see Erica's body on the tracks if I look to my left. I know I will see Dante and compound security running toward me if I turn around. The look in Spencer's eyes tells me that he is beyond reason and all he wants to do is cause me as much pain as he has experienced himself. He is intent on killing everyone who is important to me… unless… unless… I hurtle myself forward just as his finger starts to tighten around the trigger. I refuse to put everyone through this all over again. He squeezes the trigger, and I feel a searing heat in the center of my chest. _At least he won't get Dante this time…_

Eight.

I am pressed facedown to a familiar cold, tile floor. I struggle to roll over but a jagged pain in my lower back keeps me down. I hear ragged breathing from somewhere above and behind me. The side of my face is pressed to the floor, so I can't turn my head much, but I catch a glimpse of someone looming over me: Jack. The memory comes back like a brick against my temple and I am almost as paralyzed by the fear as I am physically by Jack. I flail and flop, helpless to rise. I hear fabric ripping and pressure against my body, and my helplessness nearly overwhelms me. I feel my senses slowly slipping away, shutting down in self-defense with the knowledge of what's coming. I can barely hear the dogs barking. Then I gulp in a lungful of air, and scream Queen's name. I hear the rending screech of metal scraping metal, then an abrupt snarl right behind my head. I hear the sound of two bodies colliding, a surprised shout, and another vicious snarl. Then silence, and I am suddenly able to move again.

Nine.

The Pit stretches before me, its myriad of corridors spider webbing out in all directions. As I watch, figures manifest from the darkness down each of them. One by one they step into the eternal dusk of the Pit and stop. I see my mother and father emerge from one corridor, my brother from another, Erica at another… then Dante… then Queen… then Four… then the five Dauntless leaders. They are all looking at me expectantly. They all expect me to approach them, but I know that if I approach any one of them, another one will be cut off from me. I don't know how I know this: I just do. I must make a choice that will sacrifice another. I take a step toward Four, and the leaders vanish. I stop and change direction, this time heading for Erica. Four disappears, and I stop again and turn in a circle, desperate to know what to do. All of them are important to me, and I don't want any of them to be eliminated from my life. But that's what I am doing: I am systematically limiting my choices by making other choices. I am running out of options, and this is the one thing I fear the most: having no choice left but necessity. I turn to Dante. I told him that this was my worst fear, and I desperately hope that he can help me. But as soon as I take a step in his direction, my parents vanish. I cry out for them, but it's too late. They're gone. No one else has moved; they all just look at me, waiting for me to act. I can't do it, though. I am desperate to keep the choices that remain to me- all of them. Shaking my head, I move back to the center of the Pit.

"You all want me to choose you, right?" I call out to them. "Fine, then. I choose you. All of you. But you have to come to me."

I open my eyes, and I am back in the fear landscape room. I take a deep breath and let it out slowly, trying to steady myself. The room is eerily silent. I place my hands on my knees and look at the floor, afraid of what I will see if I look into the faces of the leaders or my fellow initiates. Finally I glance up at the digital timer over the door. It is frozen at eight minutes, sixteen seconds.

Nine fears. Eight minutes and sixteen seconds. That means it took me less than a minute to work through each of them. The reality of this hits me like a hammer, the same way it did when I emerged from my aptitude test with a pure Dauntless result. At first I feel very small, and then I feel invincible. The silence in the room is almost deafening until the murmuring begins. It starts with the five leaders, and soon after the other initiates take it up. I look up at them finally, and I am met with a mixture of expressions. Some look approving, some look shocked, some look impressed. Eric approaches me again and escorts me to the door. He instructs me to wait for the rest of the initiates to complete their tests, after which we will all convene in the Pit for final rankings and, for those who are in the top ten, the initiation ritual and welcoming feast.

As I am walking out the door, I cast a hopeful glance over my shoulder to where Dante sits. He is watching me with a small but approving smile on his face. He nods once, as if to say "see you soon" and the door swings shut behind me.


	39. Chapter 39

I don't want to go back to the dorm and I promised myself that I wouldn't go down to the Lab until after initiation, so I end up waiting in the hallway around the corner from the fear landscape room. There are monitors on the walls throughout the complex today, allowing those outside the room to watch what's happening inside during the simulations. One has been affixed to the wall nearby, so I join the crowd of several dozen Dauntless who are watching. Most of them recognize me after having just watched my test, and I get more than a few claps on the back and high-fives. The overall reaction is very positive, so I feel confident that I have passed.

I stay with the crowd mainly as a way to pass the time quickly. I don't pay that much attention to the tests on the screens because even though mine is over, I still find it nerve-wracking. One by one the other initiates complete their tests and walk out of the room and past us to wait wherever they choose to wait until everyone has finished. Finally, I spot Jacqueline walking out of the room. She is headed in a different direction so she doesn't see me. My eyes shoot back to the screen and I see her time posted in the lower right corner of the screen: eight minutes, fifty seconds. For a moment I wonder how many fears she had and what they were, but then I remember that Jacqueline was ranked second and that means that Dante is up next.

It is with a mixture of excitement and dread that I turn my full attention to the screen on the wall above my head. I watch Dante, alone in the chairs on the far wall, rise and walk confidently to the side of the room. I watch Eric approach him, syringe in hand. Dante stiffens coldly when Eric approaches him, then closes his eyes and turns his head away. I feel a twinge in the side of my own neck when I see the needle disappear into the skin on the side of Dante's throat. A few seconds later, the simulation begins.

Dante barely moves until about five minutes into his test. For the most part, he stands with his shoulders squared, arms rigid with his fists clenched at his sides. His head is lowered but his hair is tied back so I can see his face clearly enough. His jaw clenches and unclenches, simultaneous with the rate of his breathing. But at that five-minute mark, Dante collapses. His breathing becomes labored, his chest heaving alarmingly. I know it's a reproduction of what happened on his first encounter in the fear landscape: his fear of being shot and bleeding to death. His doctor tried to stop the simulation then, but Dante was granted a clean bill of health yesterday afternoon so the doctor isn't present today.

Dante is struggling with this one. His breathing isn't leveling out and his body is completely rigid as he rolls onto his back, head thrown back in agony. It's the hardest thing I have ever had to watch, worse even than the first time it happened. I wish his doctor were here now, for surely he would order them to stop the simulation…

No. No, I don't want that. If that happened, it would mean that Dante fails the test and will be thrown out of Dauntless.

I want him to fight.

I want him to survive.

I want him to stay.

"Come on, Dante," I mutter through gritted teeth as I stare at the screen. A few of the others turn and look at me in surprise.

"_That's_ Dante?" one of them asks. "Dante, who was shot by another initiate?"

I don't look at the person asking, but I do confirm that this is the same Dante. A murmur ripples through the crowd as this information is passed along. These Dauntless sure do like to gossip.

I stay focused on the screen, Dante is still on his back, still rigid and gasping.

"Come _on_, Dante!" I urge his image on the screen. Around me I hear others murmuring his name. Their voices gradually grow louder, and soon they are chanting his name. I feel a surge of energy shoot through my chest. Everyone knows his story, and they are all pulling for him.

"Dan-_te, _Dan-_te, _Dan-_te, _Dan-_te…" _

My voice does not join theirs, but the pounding of my heart keeps the same rhythm as their chant. I notice when his breathing starts steadying and slowing. I see his hand reach up and touch his chest, right where his scar is. He sits up and pulls his legs under him, sitting back on his heels. He lifts his face, but his eyes are still closed and his mouth in a hard line of concentration. He's not done yet. I glance back at the timer on the screen and am surprised to see it flash the six and a half minute mark. It seemed to me that his last episode took much longer than a minute and a half. I return my focus to Dante, but he barely moves for the next few minutes. At one point, I see his jaw clench as he draws back his lips. The color drains from his face as it pulls into a fierce grimace. A low groan escapes his throat, and he brings his arms up, crossing them over his head as though he is trying to protect it. He doubles over and groans again. The sound is one of hopeless desperation. Then his arms drop away and he raises his head. His face is bathed in sweat and he is blinking rapidly. His final test is over. I glance once again at the timer.

Eight minutes, sixteen seconds.

It takes everyone, myself included, a few seconds to process this. My time was also eight minutes and sixteen seconds. Those who have been paying close attention start to murmur, and then the image of Dante blinks out, replaced by the final times for all thirteen. The noise absolutely erupts after that, especially in the crowd around me. Dante and I tied for the fastest time. People who are all trying to congratulate me at once immediately surround me. I am now assured a place in the top ten, and possibly a place in the top five. I try to thank each of them, but really all I want is to get to the door of the fear landscape room to greet Dante as he leaves. There are just too many people around me, and I can't get to it. I catch a glimpse of him as he is leaving, heading in the same direction as Jacqueline, but he is too far away for me to reach him. I call out to him, but my voice is lost in the clangor. He is soon swallowed up by a wall of people who I'm sure are likewise congratulating him. I will have to wait until we are in the Pit to see him again.

That is where I find myself about an hour later. The initiates are all gathered in the center of the yawning cavern at the far end of the Pit that serves as our dining hall. A dais with a podium at its center has been erected near the front, and Max is stepping onto it as I join the others. He holds up his hands for quiet, and the noise drops to a tolerable level. Max steps up to the microphone on the podium and speaks for a few minutes about how final rankings are determined. He also announces that Harrison is retiring from training the initiates and will be taking a new position in the Lab, meaning that Four has become the official trainer for the transfers starting next year. I make a note to congratulate him later. Then Max calls for our attention again, and directs us to the screen behind the dais. Almost immediately it is illuminated with the numbers one through thirteen. Our names appear beside the numbers a second later.

Dante is first.

Jacqueline is second.

I am third.

After that, nothing matters until the last three:

Vince is eleventh.

Joseph is twelfth.

Nicole is thirteenth.

I look around for my dorm mates, but they are nowhere to be seen. As with the cuts at the end of Stage One, I suspect that those who didn't make it were told in advance of the public posting of the rankings in order to let them leave with at least some measure of dignity. Nate, who finished fifth, is the only transfer besides me who made the top ten. I will miss Nicole and I can't help but feel a pang of sadness for Joseph even though I didn't know him well. I feel his loss because he was also from Amity, and for me that was reason enough to hope that he would make it.

I feel a warm, familiar pair of hands on my shoulders from behind. I don't even have to see him to know that it's Dante. I spin around and leap into his embrace, wrapping my arms around his neck. He lifts me off the ground, his soft, low laugh in my ear as he presses his lips to the skin below the corner of my jaw. When he draws back, even his eyes are laughing.

We made it.

He kisses me on the mouth then, hard. I kiss him back, and I don't even care who sees us. Their judgment, their control, and their rules no longer govern how we must act around each other. We have passed initiation, and now we are full-fledged Dauntless members. Our lives are our own.

A few of the other initiates stare at us openly, one of whom is Seneta, who finished fourth. When I catch her glaring at us, neither of us looks away. Finally, she throws up her hands, shaking her head as she turns away. It seems like an act of surrender to me. I ranked higher, and Dante has clearly chosen me. She has given up, and I hope for her own happiness that she can move on. Dante sees the exchange as well, pulling me tightly against his chest as Seneta walks away. He laughs again: triumphant, joyous, musical.

After Max recites the Dauntless manifesto to us, with most of us reciting along with him, Dante and I take our seats beside each other. Every time I look at him I am hit with the realization of how lucky I am. I did the worst possible thing I could do to him- short of betraying his trust in sharing his deepest secret- and somehow he kept faith through the whole ordeal, believing that we would one day be reunited, never doubting me. Even I doubted myself at times. I realize just how wrong people have been about Dante. They think that he is cold and aloof, but the reality is, he is one of the kindest, most forgiving people I know. I believe that the real reason that he kept his distance from others was because he is more attuned to peoples' emotions than most. He knew early on how cruel other people could be, and how much it hurt them to lose each other, so he chose not to get attached.

I feel beyond guilty for putting him through that pain when I inexplicably broke things off with him. I have not even told him my reason for my behavior over the last few weeks, but he has forgiven me regardless. I wonder how someone so good could end up with someone like me. I am not good like him. I don't have his perception of emotion. I am not as forgiving. I am not as brave, nor as strong, nor as beautiful. But he told me once that he sees life in me, a vibrant lust for life that makes me stand out from others. It's what my father used to call my "reckless abandon": climbing trees, riding the plow, running through the fields. It's part of who I am, and who I will always be.

After the banquet we have all night to do whatever we want. Because we are no longer initiates, we no longer have to observe a curfew. We stick around the Pit for a while, and soon are joined by his brothers. They come up to us all together, toting bottles made of dark brown glass. Congratulations are passed around with the bottles, and they all welcome me into their circle as though I have always been a part of it. In fact, Dameon pops the cap off a bottle and hands it right to me. I hesitate.

"Go ahead," he smiles encouragingly. "Nothing to stop you now. You're an adult."

"What is it?" I ask, stalling.

He shrugs and replies, "Just beer."

I nod and take the bottle.

Dale raises his bottle and the others follow suit. I raise mine along with them.

"To our baby brother," Dale starts, and I see Dante's cheeks flush, "and his lovely lady, Rain: Dauntless to the end!"

"Dauntless to the end!" Derrick echoes. I chime in, in unison with the others. We all clash our bottles together and drink. At first I take just a sip, swirling the bubbly, slightly bitter liquid around in my mouth. I swallow, and feel a rush of warmth extending to my limbs. The aftertaste is light and a little bit sweet. I take another sip, deciding that I like beer. After I finish the first bottle I feel a bit lightheaded and unsteady on my feet, and Dale and Dameon are making jokes that include the word "lightweight", but I'm too giddy to care. Dante stops them from giving me another bottle.

After a long time, the crowd in the Pit starts to dwindle, and the main lights eventually shut down for the citywide power curfew. The solar-powered runner lights along the walls power up, bathing Dauntless headquarters in a blue-green glow. Shortly afterward, Dante's brothers take their leave of us. They have to work in the morning and don't want to be falling asleep on the job.

Dante and I aren't tired yet, and because the activity from the day is dying down, I decide that now is the best time to tell him everything.

"Can we just walk around for a while?" I ask when we are finally alone.

"Sure," he says, taking my hand and leading me toward a walkway that leads to the upper levels. We walk along in silence for a while as I try to find the right words. It feels like old times, but with our roles reversed.

"I need to tell you about why I did what I did," I say.

"Okay," he replies neutrally. His eyes are trained on the path ahead of us as we walk side by side.

"This is going to sound pretty far fetched, but I did it to protect you," I breathe out.

"To protect me," he repeats. It's not a question, but more of an invitation to explain.

"I tried to think of a way to help you," I continue. "To help you with… what we talked about right before." I don't want to mention specifics in case we are overheard. Dante managed to escape being found out today in his fear landscape, but that doesn't mean that we don't still have to be very careful. "I tried to think of some way, something that I could do for you that would help. But the truth is, I know almost nothing about that. And I couldn't just go around seeking advice from other people, or asking them about it. So I did the only thing I could come up with."

I pause, hoping he will understand what I mean. He doesn't.

"I don't see how removing the single most important person in my life was supposed to help me," he says, squeezing my hand. He squeezes to tell me that he's forgiven me, but I can hear the pain of the memory in his voice. He hasn't forgotten.

"Exactly," I say, then belatedly catch on to what he just said. "I mean… wow, really? I had no idea, Dante. That's very flattering. Are you being serious right now? You mean, me?"

"Of course I mean you," he says, his voice lowering. "But you haven't finished explaining."

I feel my ears heat up. Dante told me that he loves me once, but he never told me _that_.

"Well, then," I continue, "that makes it all the better that I did what I did. Which was to give you a distraction from your worst fear. To make you think of something else that might take your mind off what you are really afraid of."

Dante stops walking and turns to me. We are on the incline of a walkway with no railing between the Pit floor, three stories below, and us. He pulls me against his chest, looking into my eyes.

"I was wrong," he says, holding my gaze as he wraps his arms around me. "My worst fear wasn't what I said it was. I was wrong, and you were right. My worst fear is losing you. That's what showed up at the end of my fear landscape today, right after the one about being sent to Candor for a lie detector test to uncover my deepest secrets."

"What?!" I nearly shout. I can't believe it; all my efforts, and him being questioned about his Divergence still entered his fear landscape. "How are you still here, then?"

The smile that spreads across his face is almost mischievous. "The thing about the fear landscape simulation is, you are aware that you're in a simulation. Even when you believe that you're under the influence of another serum- like Candor's truth serum- you're still aware that it's all just a simulation," he explains. "I didn't tell them anything."

I heave a sigh of relief and lay my head on his chest. "Anyway, that's why I did it. I never wanted to. The whole time, I wanted nothing more than to be with you. Acting like that, pushing you away like I didn't care, that was the hardest thing I have ever been through. I- I'm sorry. For everything. I won't blame me if you can't forgive me," I conclude. Dante is silent and still for a few moments. I wonder if he has changed his mind, now that he knows the truth. I lied to him, deceived him and everyone else. I am a bad person. Maybe the person I should be asking for forgiveness is myself.

Dante responds by taking my face between his hands and placing the softest kiss in the center of my forehead, followed by another on my lips.

"You're brilliant, you know that?" He asks as he slowly draws back. "There's nothing to forgive, Rain. You did exactly what you set out to do, exactly what I needed. You _did_ help me. Hell, even _I_ don't know if there was any better way. Just… just promise me one thing."

"Anything," I say immediately without even having to think about it.

"Don't ever do that again." He means to say it teasingly, but I hear the plea beneath it. It is his worst fear, after all.

"I promise," I tell him, "that I will never leave you again, unless you want me to go."

He says nothing, but sighs deeply and pulls me against him. He leans back against the solid wall, drawing me with him. I feel our hearts beating against each other, and remember again what he said about trusting me. About my blood being in his veins, and that being the reason that he is alive. I am not good enough to deserve him, but I am selfish enough to keep him.

"Now," he says as we break apart a few moments later, "I seem to recall, just moments before our lives were thrown into complete chaos, that I was taking you somewhere to show you something."

I frown at him, confused, and he laughs softly. I love how easily his laughter is coming today.

"Think back to the day I was shot," he says. I would rather not, but he plows on. "It was after lunch and I was taking you to the upper levels to show you something when we got distracted by the security guards by the net."

I try to remember, but can only recall small snippets of that day before I went looking for Spencer.

"Well, I haven't forgotten," Dante continues. "In fact, I have thought about it every day since then. Come on, I want to show it to you now."

We continue up the walkway until we reach a familiar landing. It is the same one to which I followed Dante and overheard him talking to Dameon, right before I made the decision to start the process of making amends with Dante. I recognize it for another reason, too: this is the same platform that Dameon dragged me to on the day he berated me for leaving Dante.

"What is this place?" I ask Dante. Too much has happened here for it to be a coincidence.

"My brother Dameon," he begins, "works for the compound housing ordinance. They allocate housing properties to the faction's members, including the initiates who make it into the top ten in their final tests. I asked him for a favor several weeks ago. Come on."

He leads me toward the apartments beyond the landing, stopping at a pair of doors that are side by side. The one on the right is the one into which I watched Dante walk the other day, and reemerge with Dameon.

"Dameon used to live here," he gestures to the door on the right. "But thanks to having family in high places, tomorrow it will be mine. And this one," he gestures to the door on the left, "will be yours. If you want it, that is."

My head feels light as air. I don't know if it's a residual effect of the beer, or from what Dante is saying to me. I am too stunned by this to even reply. I just nod vigorously. He steps closer to me and drapes his arms across my shoulders. I place my hands on his hips.

"I want to be close to you. Falling asleep at night with you all the way across the other side of the Pit was torture. That dream you told me about- the one where I had sneaked into your dorm- I want that to be a real possibility. I want to be able to watch you fall asleep, or to fall asleep as you watch me," he murmurs.

I feel heat rising in my ears as I realize what this means, what it could lead to, and suddenly I have trouble meeting his eyes with mine. He notices this, and gently cups a hand under my chin, forcing me to look at him.

"What is it?" he asks softly, studying me.

"Dante, I…" I stammer. "I want that too, but I don't know if… if I'm ready for…"

"Ready for what?" He persists.

"You. And me," I say, feeling awkward. I've never had a boyfriend before, and I don't know how I'm supposed to talk to one about this.

"In bed together," I finally blurt out.

He bites his lower lip and looks away. "That's not what I meant," he says gently. "I meant it to be taken at face value. Just falling asleep next to you. That's all. Unless… or, until…" he trails off.

"Unless… what?" I ask slowly.

"Unless _you _want more," his voice drops to a whisper.

"Is that what _you _want?" I ask, also whispering. He keeps his eyes averted.

"Maybe? I don't know. I've never…" he trails off. Apparently this is just as awkward for him as it is for me.

"Well," I lean against him, "neither have I."

Dante heaves a sigh. "I think we should probably get more comfortable talking about it before we decide to do anything else about it," he murmurs, his eyes finally returning to mine.

"Agreed," I whisper. "In the meantime, being neighbors will do."

"Neighbors who fall asleep together?" He asks.

"Sometimes, yes. When it's special," I reply.

"Every minute I spend with you is special," he insists.

"That's because you don't spend every minute with me," I counter. He pulls my forehead to his lips and places another kiss there, this one lingering. I feel his lips move as he murmurs something I can't quite hear against my forehead.

"What was that?" I ask.

"Nothing," he says quickly. "It's late, and we still have to get up early tomorrow for job selection. Have you given any thought to what you want to do?"

That's when I remember the promise I made earlier. But I know that it's too late now to go visit Queen. I will just have to go in the morning after I get assigned to my new job.

"I have, actually," I reply. "There's some work in the Lab that I am considering, but I'd also like to learn more about the perimeter guards. How about you?"

"Funny, that," he says. "I was also thinking of working in the Lab. But I have sort of been informally offered a related-but-totally-different job."

I look at him quizzically. Why do his answers have to be so cryptic?

"I'll tell you more tomorrow," he smiles. "I just think it's bad luck to say anything before it's been finalized."

"Well, I can live with that," I concede.

He walks me back to my soon-to-be-former dorm. At the door, I turn to say good night to him, but he is staring at the door.

"Initiate rules don't apply to us anymore," he says. "It's just you and Nate in here now, right?"

I nod, a brief pang of sadness over the absence of Nicole and Joseph touches my stomach. I remember the last night I saw them sitting on a bed together, holding hands and whispering to each other. They probably knew what was about to happen. In a way, I hope they did. Maybe they were at least prepared for it. And at least they have each other out there.

"I want to see the inside of it," Dante nods at the door. I hesitate for a moment, then put my hand on the handle to push it open.

"Okay, but just for a minute. And be quiet; I don't want to wake up Nate," I whisper. I push the door open and we step inside.

The dorm is empty. Nate's belongings are still where he left them, footlocker and all, but Nate is not in his bed. He's nowhere in the dorm. I start to get worried, but Dante just chuckles.

"I guess he's out partying with Jacqueline," he says. "I heard that she got special permission from her uncle Ken- he's Max's second in command- to have another rooftop bonfire. I bet they're still up there."

"No one told me about it," I start to complain.

"They told _me_," he says, "and asked me to invite you. But I figured that we had other things we needed to talk about tonight. Am I right?"

"Yes," I smile back at him, again so very grateful to have him in my life.

"Well, this place is disappointingly identical to ours," he says, looking around the dorm, "minus the graffiti. So… I'll see you in the morning?"

I nod, and he bends down to kiss me. It is a long, slow, sweet kiss: a goodnight kiss.

"Well," he whispers as we separate, "goodnight, my Rain."

He takes a step toward the door and I catch his hand. He looks back at me in surprise.

"Dante," I say his name almost desperately, but my resolve doesn't waver. I have to swallow hard before I can finish. "Stay with me tonight."


	40. Chapter 40

_**-DANTE-**_

The second those words slip from her lips, I feel like I am in a dream. A dream from which I hope I never wake. Unless, of course, she will still be there when I do.

This girl is full of surprises. Like yesterday, when she just walked up to me, bold as you please, and told me that she wanted to talk to me. This, after what felt like an eternity of her dodging every opportunity to say even one word to me. The surprises aren't always good ones, though. I was not expecting her to abandon me when she did, just after she had so resolutely promised to help me. If I had better insight into people's motives, I may have been able to see that what she was actually doing was, in fact, helping me. I see that now, but hindsight, as they say…

I should be angry, I should feel hurt, I should be wary of her, but I'm not. How can I be, after she has poured her heart out and told me everything? She openly admitted to deceiving me, but her reason for doing so leaves no question in my mind that she has been on my side the whole time. She is one of the most selfless people I have ever met. She asked me to forgive her but I already had, long before she asked. I have a strong feeling that she still feels guilty for what she did, and it's frustrating to know that I have no way, aside from my words, of assuring her that I bear her no hard feelings.

She surprised me again when I took her up to the housing block where we will all be moving. I was sure that she would turn down my offer- the one I arranged with Dameon a while back. Rain is proud, I have learned, and I was fully prepared for her to refuse me in favor of getting a new place on her own. But not only did she accept, she started the whole conversation on taking our relationship to another level. I suppose I did instigate that to some degree, but I truly meant for my words to be taken at face value. The fact that she progressed the conversation to the next level- or tried to- speaks volumes about her courage and how seriously she takes us. This isn't even something I wanted to discuss with her anytime in the near future, especially not after what she's been through. I still don't know what's true and what's rumor about that incident, but I do not want to breach the topic until she lets me know that she is ready to talk about it. From our progressive conversation about living next door to each other, however, it doesn't seem like it has significantly, or at least negatively, affected her.

And now this. Our last night in the dorms, we discover that she may be have hers to herself, and she invites me to stay with her.

Just us.

Alone.

My heart is pounding.

I shift my wrist, lacing my fingers into hers, and step away from the door. Step toward her. Her eyes are on mine, unblinking, a mix of desire and uncertainty emanating from them. I can't deny her. I never could.

"I'll stay," I whisper to her. "Tonight is special, right?

"I can't imagine any night that would be more special," she replies.

I can, but I don't say anything. I just smile and kiss her lightly on the mouth. She presses her lips softly to mine, then draws back and leads me across the room. There are only two beds with footlockers still under them. Rain sits down on one of them, leaning back against the wall. I sit beside her, our fingers still intertwined.

"I can't believe it's over," she says quietly. I look over at her. She is staring at the door with a faraway expression. I can only imagine what she is thinking about.

"Yeah," I reply, studying her. "It's been a hell of a ride."

"Is Dauntless initiation always like this?" I think at first that she's joking, but considering the events we have been through, I don't know why she would.

"No," I say. "I've seen some crazy stuff go down here, but nothing like what we had this year. I'm glad it's over."

"Me too," she sighs. "And I'm glad we both made it."

She means that we both not only passed initiation, but that we also survived our brushes with danger and death. I slide an arm around her shoulders and pull her close. She nestles her head into the hollow between my shoulder and neck. I kiss her on the temple and close my eyes. I didn't realize how tired I was until we sat down. I hear Rain sigh deeply.

"What are you thinking about?" I ask her.

"Nothing, really," she says, "but also everything. I'm mostly thinking about how this feels right now, just being here with you again. I really missed you."

She sounds like she's apologizing again. "I was never really gone," I say, "because I never stopped caring about you. Not for one second."

She turns toward me, drawing her knees up and leaning her legs against mine. Her head is pillowed against my chest, right over my scar. It doesn't even hurt anymore, so I don't mind. She drapes her arms around my waist as I wrap both arms around her shoulders.

"I love you, Dante," she murmurs into my chest.

"I know you do," I whisper. "And I love you."

"I'm so tired," she sighs, her warm breath penetrating the thin fabric of my t-shirt.

"I think we should sleep," I suggest. I lean over to lay her on the bed, placing her head on the pillow. I scoot down to her feet, unlacing and pulling off her boots. She giggles a little when my fingers brush against her heel.

"I have ticklish feet," she whispers. This makes me smile.

I set her boots under the bed and start unlacing my own. Rain shifts on the bed, drawing back the single blanket that covers it, and wriggling beneath it. I place my boots beside hers and turn to face her. She is pressed against the wall in the narrow bunk, leaving room for me on the outside. She looks at me silently, expectantly.

My heart is now racing. I slip into the bed beside her. Facing me, she slides closer until her forehead is resting against my collarbone. I slip my arms around her again; suddenly very conscientious about what parts of her body I am touching. I don't want her to think I am suggesting any more than this. She drapes an arm across my ribs, her fingers brushing my back. Neither of us speaks for a moment. I try to concentrate on listening to her breathe, but…

She is so close to me. So much closer, and so much warmer than I ever remember. I close my eyes and breathe in the scent of her hair. I hear her emit a small, nervous laugh.

"Your heart is beating really fast," she says softly. I can hear the smile in her voice.

"Sorry," I say lamely. "I can't really help it."

"Are you nervous, Dante?" she asks, voice dropping to a whisper.

I swallow. "Yes."

"Why?" She asks.

"Because…" I hesitate. Why _am _I nervous? "Because you make me think things- _feel_ things- that I never knew existed before."

She goes very still.

"Are _you_ nervous?" I ask a moment later.

"Yes," she whispers.

"Don't be. You don't have anything to worry about, I promise," I assure her.

"Thank you," I hear her whisper as her lips brush my chest, right over my heart. I feel like it's going to burst.

We lay still in each other's arms in the semi-darkness of the dorm for a while, but neither of us falls asleep. This singular experience, of Rain inviting me to stay with her tonight, has awoken some part of me that I have never experienced before. I'm no stranger to carnal desire: Dauntless is filled with plenty of females who piqued my interest in that department in the past. But this is different, and far more powerful. Images and thoughts of Rain and I flash through my mind, and it's all I can do to shove them down. I am again keenly aware of what parts of our bodies are touching, and how close other parts are to touching. I am at war with myself over what I want, what I don't want, what she wants, and what we are ready for. Is it because of my emotional connection to her? Or is it simply the fact that we are in a bed together? A combination of the two? Whatever it is, it's driving me to distraction and, tired as I am, I can't sleep.

"You're still awake," I say after she sighs. It feels like hours have passed.

"So are you," she points outs, then: "What are you thinking about?"

"You," I say without hesitation.

"No, really. I want to know," she says.

"I actually _am_ thinking about you," I tell her.

"What about me?"

How do I even begin to answer that question? I am thinking of our past, our present, and all the possibilities that could be our future. I am thinking about what she has been doing for all this time that she wasn't with me. I am wondering what she was doing in one of the testing rooms in the Lab with Jack when he attacked her. About how far it went. And when and how it stopped. I dread the answers, but I want to understand it all, too. I want to know the truth, and she's the only one who knows that.

Yes, mostly about that. I resolved earlier not to touch on this topic unless she brought it up, but now I have to know. I have to know something about what happened, because I need to know how it affected her. If it's affecting her right now, if what we are doing is in any way repulsive to her.

"Many things," I admit. "Rain, do you mind if I ask you something?"

"You just did."

"Something else."

"You can ask me anything."

I take a deep breath. Here goes. "Are you really okay with this?"

I feel her head tilt back as she looks up at me. "With what?"

"Being this close to me. Being in a bed with me. I mean… you know where this could lead. And after… after what happened to you in the Lab, I just want to know that this- being close like this- is something that you're okay with." I lift my head from the pillow so I can see her face when I look down.

She doesn't reply right away. I see the reaction that I both dreaded and expected in her eyes: fear, pain, and resentment. It's gone a second later.

"I am perfectly okay with this," she says. There is no trace of what I saw in her eyes reflected in her voice. I say nothing; I just keep looking at her.

"What?" She says after a moment. "Dante, you are not Jack. You're _nothing_ like Jack."

I take a deep breath and exhale slowly before I ask, "How do you know I'm not like him?"

Her response is immediate.

"Because Jack came after me when I showed weakness. He took advantage of it when he learned what made me weak. When _you _learned what made me weak, you did what you could to help me to get stronger." She keeps her eyes on mine the entire time she speaks. "You are nothing like him."

Sometimes I swear she knows me better than I know myself.

"Rain," I whisper as I brush my lips across her forehead. "You are not weak. Not anymore. You're one of the strongest people I know. And… thank you. For trusting me."

"Thank you for being someone I can trust," she whispers back. She drops her head back to the pillow and nestles more closely against me. This is the sweetest agony, but I force myself to let it go. Moments later, I hear her breathing becoming deep and even. I wait until I know that she is asleep before letting myself relax enough to fall asleep beside her.

As I drift off, I think about this new experience. I have never been in a bed with a girl before. I have never fallen asleep holding someone in my arms. And yet, it all feels so perfect, so _right. _The way Rain's body fits perfectly against mine, like puzzle pieces. Like we were made for each other.


	41. Chapter 41

I wake up in what feels like a confined space. It takes me only a second to remember that I am not alone in my bed. Last night, I invited Dante to stay with me in my otherwise empty dorm, and he did.

I actually didn't think that he would, but he did.

What's even more surprising is that he had reservations about it because of Jack. He thought that being close to him like this would trigger something about my attack. I was completely caught off guard when he questioned me about it because it actually never even crossed my mind. Everything about Dante is, to me, the complete opposite of Jack. I hope he understands that now. His concern for my comfort and stability was moving, all the same. Granted, there have been a couple of occasions when unexpected contact with him did give me a momentary flashback to Jack, but they were fleeting and left no lasting impact. But I don't want Dante to ever put himself anywhere near the same category as Jack ever again. They might as well be two completely different species in my eyes.

And speaking of other species, I still have a promise to keep.

I stir lightly; snuggling into Dante's chest and placing a light kiss on his chin. His eyes crack open.

"Good morning," I whisper, my voice still rough from sleep. He doesn't say anything, but a slow smile creeps across his face when he looks at me. His arms, which had been limply draped around me in sleep, tighten and pull me into him. I tuck my head under his chin. We lay like this for a few minutes, just enjoying being close to each other. I expect that Dante might fall asleep again, but he doesn't: his irregular breathing gives him away.

"As much as I'd rather not," he mumbles after a while, "we should probably get up."

"Yeah, we should. I have something I have to do before breakfast today," I tell him. I feel guilty for not going to see Queen last night. It has also occurs to me that I haven't even mentioned the dogs to Dante yet. "I'd like you to come with me."

"Okay," he says through a sleepy smile. He climbs from the bed, pulls his hair back into a ponytail, and stretches. I try not to stare as his long, slender waist is exposed beneath the hem of his shirt. I grab our boots from under the bed and hand Dante his own, then rise and try to brush the wrinkles from my clothes. I catch Dante doing the same, and I can tell we are both thinking the same thing: was it wise or foolish to sleep fully clothed? Wise on the one hand, because clothing provides a physical barrier between bodies: foolish on the other, because anyone who sees us in this state now is going to make assumptions.

"I can wait outside," Dante says, "if you want to get changed."

He puts his boots on and steps out, and I hurriedly change into a pair of black jeans and a charcoal and black layered tank top. I run a brush through my hair quickly, opting to leave it down today rather than taking the time to braid it. I barely take the time to lace my boots properly before I rush for the door. Dante is waiting patiently.

"Do you want to get changed at your dorm?" I ask him.

"No," he shakes his head. "I'll get changed after breakfast." A sly smile spreads across his face as he speaks.

"What is that for?" I ask, giving him a knowing look.

"My clothes smell like you," he says, almost sheepishly, "and I like the way you smell, so I'm in no hurry to change them."

My ears get so hot I think they might catch fire. I duck my head and slip my hand into his.

The effects of last night's revelries become apparent as we progress through the compound. The Pit is almost empty when we arrive, save for a few people setting up the long tables in the cavernous dining hall on the opposite end. Dante follows me past the chasm and down the long corridor that leads to the back staircase to the Lab, passing less than a dozen people along the way. A security guard named J.T. is on duty by the staircase. He acknowledges me with a nod, but stops Dante.

"It's okay," I tell J.T. "He's Dale's brother."

"Which brother?" Asks J.T. in a precautionary tone, his attention shifting from me to Dante.

"Dante," Dante answers.

"Well, I'll be damned. The entire Kouris pack has made it into Dauntless, eh?" A huge smile spreads across J.T. face as he offers his hand for Dante to shake. "Congratulations, Dante! And you too, of course, Rain."

"Thanks, J.T." I smile back at him while the guys shake hands. "I just want to go down and say hi to them for a minute. And introduce Dante to all of them."

J.T. nods. "Thinking of taking up where the other guy left off? We could use you here, Rain. And so could _they."_

"I'm still thinking about it," I tell him. He means, of course, continuing with the dogs' training in order to use them for security patrols. Because the dogs still showed up in my fear landscape, I'm not sure that I should take it on. Maybe I would if it was just Queen, but I'm still not sure about the others.

Dante looks thoroughly confused, so I say goodbye to J.T. and lead Dante down the staircase. I pause outside of the first door to room A13.

"I'm not sure how they are going to act around you because they've never seen you before," I say vaguely. "Just… be prepared for a lot of noise."

"Noise, huh?" Dante says, trying to sound casual, but his curiosity is clearly getting the better of him. I hope he isn't also afraid of dogs.

I open the outer door and cross the entryway to the second door. Without hesitation, I pull it open and walk in. Dante is right on my heels. The deafening clamor of the barking begins. I lead him to the center of the room where he can see all eight kennels.

"Dogs?" Dante asks. He sounds completely surprised. "Why are there dogs in the Lab?"

I repeat what Dale told me, about the Amity transfer who spearheaded the project before disappearing on a patrol along with their best dog, and how the dogs have been receiving only minimal training and care, and that is thanks to the few volunteers who offered to do it in their spare time. Thus far, no one has been located who is willing or able to take on the continuation of their training.

"How did you ever end up being part of this?" He asks. His eyes are on the biggest of the dogs: a male named Drift. I tell him that story, too: about getting lost while exploring the compound and running into Dale in the corridor outside; how he introduced me to the dogs and how I decided to spend time around them as a way of conquering my fear of them.

"And it worked?" He asks.

"Sort of," I tell him. "The dogs still showed up in my fear landscape, but at the end of it I was able to control them. So maybe they won't be there now." I shake my head. "Not that I'm too eager to go back in and find out. Plus… I have other fears that are associated with the dogs. But in those, the dogs helped. Especially her," I point at Queen.

Dante is quiet for a long time after I finish speaking. His eyes travel from one dog to the next. At length he turns to me: his eyes dark, his expression serious.

"Jack?" He asks. The malice in his voice is unmistakable. He nearly spits out the name.

I turn away and nod. I can't look at him.

"It was here," he says. It's not a question. I nod again. "But you still come back here."

"Of course I do," I reply. "He isn't here; I have nothing to worry about. Plus, _she _is here. She's the reason things didn't get any worse than they did. She… she broke out of her kennel and attacked him before… before anything really bad happened."

"I'm sorry," Dante's voice is quiet and laced with guilt. "I didn't mean to bring it up."

I look back at him. I reach out and take his hand, squeezing it gently. "It's okay," I assure him. "I wouldn't be able to get past it if I didn't talk about it, or if I didn't come back to the place where it happened. A wound can't heal if you never let it close."

"You are very brave, Rain. And so strong." He still sounds remorseful. I change the subject.

"Do you want to meet her?" I ask, gesturing to Queen.

"Of course," he answers.

I step toward Queen's kennel. She stops barking and looks up at me expectantly. I take the leash from its hook and slip it around her neck as soon as I open the gate. She steps placidly to my side, paying almost no attention to the new person in the room. She is focused solely on me. I guide her over to Dante, who kneels down to place himself at eye level with the dog. She glances at him, then looks back up at me, waiting.

"Go ahead," I tell her. Queen thrusts her head forward, sniffing at Dante. He raises one hand slowly toward her nose. She sniffs for a few seconds, then makes a small swipe across his knuckles with her tongue. Dante smiles, and runs his palm along the side of her head. She leans into the stroke, and he scratches behind her ear.

"She likes you, too," I observe. I can't help but smile. Dante chuckles a little.

"I've never been up close to a dog before," he says. "I think I like them." He pets Queen in silence for a few moments, then places a hand on either side of her head.

"Thank you," he says to the dog, "for being here when I couldn't."

Half an hour later, we are walking back up the stairs to get some breakfast. Dante is being incredibly encouraging on the topic of me working with the dogs. He seems especially impressed with Queen.

"You two have a bond," he says. "You both went through the same thing. Someone you both trusted violated _your _trust, and in order to protect you, she had to violate _his _trust in her."

I had never really thought about it that way.

Now I am genuinely torn between seeking a career in the Lab with the dogs or pursuing what I originally wanted, which was a job with the Perimeter Guard. I mull over the options throughout breakfast. Nate and I have abandoned our old table, and now sit with the Dauntless-born from our former class. He and Jacqueline are so completely absorbed in each other that they don't even acknowledge us. I also notice with amusement that Jayce is shyly flirting with Seneta, and she is not totally unreceptive. For her sake, and for Dante's and mine, I will be happy to see her move on.

Breakfast is relatively subdued, and I suspect that this is because most of Dauntless is nursing some degree of a hangover. There is, of course, another reason why the recent inductees are quiet: we are all contemplating what jobs will be available, and what job we will end up with by the end of today.


	42. Chapter 42

We have an hour to kill after breakfast before we are scheduled to go up to the glass building that looms high above the Pit: the place where we will meet with the Dauntless leaders and recruiters to determine our jobs. I already know that Carla is one of the recruiters this year, and I confide in Dante what she told me about coming to her for job placement. He tells me that she instructed him to do the same, but he shakes his head and smiles when I ask him to elaborate.

"You'll see," he tells me. I know he has this superstitious belief that if he says too much beforehand, he won't end up getting the job. It's pretty clear to me that he really wants it, whatever it is.

There is another thing that I'm conflicted about. If Dante takes a job in the compound and I decide to work with the Perimeter Guard, how much time will we get to spend together? It's just one more question I have in a long stream of questions. I hope I will be able to remember them all.

Dante and I wander to the edge of the chasm and lean on the railing while we wait for our time to go up to the top of the Pit. It feels amazing to be with him like this: no more pressure to hide what we are, no more worrying about what people will say or think if they see us together. In celebration of this, we do what we always used to do in our stolen moments late at night: stand close to each other in almost complete silence, simply enjoying being in each other's presence.

"Rain," Dante says as we watch the churning water below, "can I ask you about your final test yesterday?"

"Sure," I say, smiling at him. "It's been on my mind, too."

"Well, we finished in the same amount of time, right? I was just curious: how man fears did you have?" He asks.

"How many did _you_ have?" I reply elusively.

"I'll only tell if you do," he replies.

"Fair enough," I nod. "How about if I count to three and we both say our number?"

"Good idea."

"Okay: one… two… three!"

"Nine," we say in unison.

This is followed by a brief shocked silence, punctuated at the end by my gasp. Then we both start laughing. Dante puts his hands on my shoulder and shakes his head. I keep laughing, wrapping my hands around his forearms.

"Next, we are going to tell each other that we had exactly the same fears," I say jokingly.

"Oh, I very much doubt that," he says through his smile.

"Well, how about it?" I ask. "Any of them that you want to talk about?"

"I already told you about two of mine. Those were my worst two; the last ones." His smile wavers a little. "How about you? Were the two you told me about your worst?"

"No. Well, one of them was. Not the one about being chased by dogs." I've mentioned Jack's name enough times today, and I'm done with it. Dante looks closely at my face, studying me for a reaction to what he knows I am thinking. I don't give him one. "My worst was what I said it was: running out of options. I was in the Pit and there were people all around me, all of them wanting me to come to them for some reason. But every time I moved toward one person, another one, or a whole group, would disappear."

"So what did you do?" He asks.

"I made the ones who were left come to me," I reply.

"Clever," he says, a trace of his smile still in his eyes. "And well done."

"That's three of mine. Now it's your turn," I say, edging closer to him.

"Okay," he takes a deep breath. "My first fear is weakness. It was the first one that I faced in the simulations during Stage Two. I was in one of the training rooms and there were people all around me with guns and knives and all kinds of other weapons. They kept attacking me. I had nothing: no weapons, no body armor- just regular clothes. I tried to defend myself against them, but no matter what I did, nothing worked. They just kept attacking me and overpowering me. Finally I just had to submit. I had to let go and admit that I couldn't beat them."

I contemplate this for a moment. I can see why he would fear being weak; I get it. But the way that Dante is now averting his eyes, his shoulders slouched; I can see that there is more to this than his fear. He feels ashamed of it. I assume it is because his reputation for strength has always preceded him, and this fear revealed to him that he cannot always rely on that reputation; that there will always be someone or something out there that is stronger than him.

"You know," I say, "Four once told us something about weakness. Or rather, about courage. He said that a brave man acknowledges the strength of another. So it's nothing to be ashamed of, Dante."

"Sometimes I wish I had been a transfer rather than Dauntless-born," he sighs.

"Why?" I ask, surprised by this out-of-left-field statement.

"Don't get me wrong," he says, "Lauren is a good instructor. She's really good at what she does. But Four is amazing. He has an insight into people- into what makes them Dauntless- that's really remarkable."

"I can't argue with that," I say.

Then it's time to go. As we ascend the walkway, we spot the eight other graduates moving in the same direction. Most are in pairs: I spot Jacqueline and Nate walking with Eric and Max, and far ahead of us I see Seneta and Jayce walking side by side. No one is alone, and for some reason this makes me happy. I suppose it's my Amity upbringing in evidence. My old faction is all about working together, being together, sharing everything, and everyone being part of everything. No one was ever alone there. I suppose this was a factor in why I reached out to Dante in the first place: my original upbringing did not allow exclusion, and when we first met, Dante was aloof and distant with no close friends. And now, as he hooks his fingers around mine while we walk to meet with the people who will help us determine the course of the rest of our lives, I am once again so glad that I did.

There are about a dozen recruiters waiting for us, each in their own room on the second floor of the glass building above the compound. We are expected to meet with all of them individually before we choose which job we want. If two or more people want a job that has only one opening, it goes to the one who had the highest ranking at the end of our final tests. Dante and I go our separate ways here, and begin making our rounds through the recruiters.

Carla is the second to last one whom I meet with. She is different from the others because she does not immediately tell me what positions she is recruiting for.

"Rain," she says, settling into a chair across from me. "What aspect of your training gave you the greatest feeling of accomplishment?"

This is unexpected. I think for a moment.

"Pertaining specifically to my training?" I ask. She nods. I take a deep breath. "I suppose that would have to be conquering one of my worst fears. With the dogs, you know."

"And how did you conquer that fear? Tell me what the process was, and why you believe you have conquered it." Now she sounds like a trainer or a leader; not the mentor I have come to know.

"Well," I begin, thinking back to the first day that Dale showed me the dogs. "I had just gone through my simulation that revealed that fear when I met the dogs in the Lab. Four told us that part of the reason that the fear landscape test was developed was to train us to confront our fears and learn how we react when faced with them, and that this would help us react in high-pressure situations that we Dauntless face in the line of duty. Rather than relying on the simulations alone for this, I decided to start spending time with the dogs- maybe even working with them if I could- to get over being afraid of them. And when I did it, when I made a connection with one of them, I knew that the fear was fading. I felt stronger. Like I was capable of anything."

"And would working in the Lab be something you would want as a career?" Carla asks, then: "Because the canine security force is one of the positions with an opening."

Here I hesitate. Do I really want to work with the dogs? Do I want to be deep underground, in the Lab for most of the rest of my life? On one hand, I am almost sure that Dante is taking a job within the compound, and working in the Lab would mean that I could be closer to him. But am I willing to forgo the opportunity to be closer to my family- the opportunity to be one of the people who protects them, even if they can't see me every day? Faction customs forbid me to interact with them, unless absolutely necessary, outside of Visiting Day. Faction before blood, as we all say. But this is a way that I could compensate for leaving them. Maybe not for them, but for me.

"I'm seriously considering it," I tell her honestly.

"What else are you considering?" She asks. Carla certainly doesn't miss a beat.

"I have also been thinking about the Perimeter Guard," I say as I let out a deep breath.

"Perimeter Guard, huh?" A knowing smile creeps across her face. No, Carla doesn't miss a thing. She narrows her eyes and studies me. "That's not a job that top-ranking graduates usually choose."

"I don't see why they wouldn't," I reply smoothly. "It takes a lot of courage to be stationed that far outside of the city, beyond the fence, away from immediate reinforcement if you run into trouble."

"Clever," Carla says. "You know something, Rain, I am going to speak with another one of the recruiters about something. Wait here; this will only take me a few minutes."

She is gone not even five minutes and when she returns, there is another woman with her. When they enter the room I see that it's Jane. She must be the one recruiter I have not yet met with.

"Well, if it isn't the initiate who's part cat," Jane greets, recognizing me, then to Carla: "_She _isthe one you're talking about?"

"She is," Carla confirms. "I'm glad you two already know each other."

"We do," Jane says, "and honestly, Carla, I can't think of a better candidate. She'll do fine. She's fast and smart: a quick learner. And she has courage in spades, from what I saw in the training room a few weeks back."

"What are you talking about? Candidate for what?" I interrupt. "If this is my future under discussion. I think I should have some say in it."

"Jane was recently promoted to captain of the Perimeter Guard," Carla explains, "and there are actually a couple of positions available on her team. One of them, we think, would suit you. Jane?"

"There's a lot of space that needs patrolling along the perimeter," Jane takes over. "The problem is, human beings can't always cover all of it. Having a canine unit, with their enhanced senses, speed, and endurance, would be really beneficial to the Perimeter Guard."

"I see," I say after she finishes speaking. "But would I be out there permanently? I mean, how often would I have chances to come back to the compound?"

"The shifts on Perimeter Guard are rotational," Jane elaborates. "They aren't easy, I'll warn you now. You'll be out there for two weeks, then back at the compound for two weeks. A lot of Perimeter Guard personnel will do some work in the Lab, or in shops in the Pit, or volunteer in the infirmary while they are back here, but I assume you will be focused on training the dogs… if you decide that this is what you want to do for the rest of your life."

I hold up one hand, nodding.

"It is," I announce. "This is perfect. I can't think of anything I'd rather be doing as a member of Dauntless."

"Well, not a single other candidate comes close to qualifying for this one," Carla says. "I can't say officially that you have the position yet- it has to be approved by Max and the other leaders first- but…"

A few minutes later, I am practically skipping out of the meeting with Carla and Jane. I can't wait to find Dante, to see his face when he hears he'll be living next door to eight dogs.


End file.
